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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25945978">Beautiful Crush</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelan_s/pseuds/Zelan_s'>Zelan_s</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stardew Valley (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Actual farming is barely mentioned lol sorry, Angst, Discussion of Abortion, Drinking, Explicit Language, F/M, Family Drama, Friendship, Past Sexual Assault, Pining, Smoking, Texting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:01:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>69,577</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25945978</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelan_s/pseuds/Zelan_s</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She wished she could explore his body and inspect him.<br/>Learn him and memorize him.<br/>That way she'd know what to miss when he was gone.<br/>Sebastian was heartbreakingly, hauntingly beautiful.<br/>It made her heart hurt.<br/>This couldn't end well.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Abigail/Sebastian (Stardew Valley), Sebastian/Female Player (Stardew Valley)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, thank you for taking the time to glance at my work.<br/>I've been playing Stardew valley for a bit and wanted to make my own fic.<br/>I'll be making a few changes to the characters but I hope you still enjoy reading it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>“Tell me something, Jude...”</p><p>Jude knew that whatever Addison Handler was going to say, she wasn’t going to enjoy it. Addison Handler leaned in close, mouth smiling, beady eyes narrowed. Jude held her breath.</p><p>“Why is it that the newbie is already better at your job in the first day than you ever were in the last 2 years?”</p><p>The taller of the two glared pointedly at Jude, who was just walking into the Joja Co. break-room to grab her favorite mug before leaving work.</p><p>Blood pounded in Jude’s ears.</p><p>Jude scanned her opponent’s green-flecked blue eyes. Why was this happening? And at the break-room no less? This was a safe space. A haven. Jude was almost out of this stifling city for good. She was so close.</p><p>“I asked you a question.” Addison sucked her teeth.</p><p>Punching her would be therapeutic.</p><p>“Hello? Is anyone in there?”</p><p>So therapeutic.</p><p>Christ, who was Jude kidding? At this stage of the game there was no need to be a hero. Especially at 5'3", with a “cute” right hook and reaction times that were sluggish at best.</p><p>Whatever. In four days Jude would be off to her new start and the opinions of these micro-regionally famous people would no longer matter.</p><p>Just as Addison drew back, to glare at her from a different, arguably more menacing angle, Jude’s lead manager materialized with her manila folder and checklist ready to be done with the day.</p><p>Jude clutched her mug. She glanced over back at the desks where “Addy’s Daddy,” as he’d introduced himself during her interview (barf), was doing a looming-leering thing at one of her soon to be ex-coworkers. Jude sighed. She’d been hoping for things to be easier on her last days here, and this was not at all going down how she’d planned.</p><p>“I'm glad you're leaving, maybe then we'll see actual progress here hm?”</p><p>Okay, Addison Handler may have gotten a Chanel caviar purse at fourteen (it was a hand-me-down) and a Jeep Wrangler at sixteen, but wow, there were sandwiches smarter than this girl.</p><p>“I highly doubt that” whispered Jude. Addison’s lip twitched in confusion, as if she’d been informed that Africa wasn’t a country.</p><p>Mr. Handler roared with laughter at something someone said.</p><p>“Daddy,” whined Addison, making her way toward him, fuming.</p><p>Daddy? Yuck.</p><p>Well at least she wouldn't have to worry about nepotism much longer, finishing up the last of her work she checked her phone and saw her mother had texted her letting her know she was there to pick her up. Quickly grabbing her things and clocking out, she made her way towards the building entrance. Making a quick scan and seeing her mother, Tara conversing with someone.</p><p>Everything about the way Jude’s mom interacted with Mr. Handler with his gleaming wedding ring and his hot-pink button up shirt infuriated her. It was the same old tale with Tara and guys. You’d think she’d give it a rest and pay some attention to her only daughter the week before she left, but no, she was too busy flapping her lash extensions to some fake-tanned creep.</p><p>In the car, Tara rearranged her boobs in her gray striped top and latched her seat belt. Having a MILF for a mom was garbage.</p><p>Tara pulled out of the parking lot as the uneasy silence thickened.</p><p>On the highway, the Japanese cat mounted on her mother’s dashboard rattled. Jude stared at it. It was the size of a dinner roll, with a detached, spring-loaded head and blank cartoon eyes. This one, a recent addition, had usurped plastic Hello Kitty when Kitty’s features got bleached off by the sun. Tara insisted on accessorizing everything. It was pathological. It reminded Jude of the rich bitches in the “Super Six,” Addy and Rachel and Jenny Reed and the three other glossy-haired sadists who wore a ton of rings and bracelets and had a new, sparkly phone case every week. You could hear them walking down the hall since their high heels made such a racket. Thing is, if Tara had worked at Joja Co. she probably would have been friends with them.</p><p>Jude longed for a crew. She was on “Oh, hey” status with a bunch of people from work, but her closest friend, Amy Salaiz, transferred to a different branch the summer before, leaving Jude socially unmoored. If there were a subbasement level with a trapdoor below utter invisibility, Jude would have found a way to fall to it. Her social standing was nonexistent.</p><p>The cat continued to rattle. If it carried on in this way, it would be toast before they hit the freeway. It was trinket Darwinism. A fragile animal had no business being mounted in a fast-moving vehicle. Certainly not a fast-moving vehicle commandeered by her mother, who had no right to commandeer anything in the whole wide . . .</p><p>“Why do you do that?” Jude exploded. She wanted to punch a hole in the window and fling the cat out. Possibly hurl herself after it. Today was meant to be different. Jude’d let herself get excited about it for weeks. Her mom had taken the afternoon off, and it hurt Jude’s feelings that Tara would ditch her as soon as she saw Mr. Handler. Not that Jude would admit what was really bothering her. Pathetic outcasts had standards too.</p><p>“What?” Tara rolled her eyes. The teen-like gesture coming from her mom set her off even more. Jude wanted to shake Tara until her fillings came loose.</p><p>“Why do you flirt with everyone all the time?” Tara was the mom equivalent of a feather boa. Or human glitter. “It’s getting old, you know.”</p><p>“Who are you talking about?”</p><p>“Oh, you know exactly who . . .”</p><p>“Matt Handler?”</p><p>“Yeah, gross, nasty ‘Addy’s Daddy,’ who, incidentally, is married!”</p><p>“I know he’s married.” Tara huffed. “Who was flirting? I was being polite, which, by the way, wouldn’t kill you. With your eye-rolling and scowls. Do you know how embarrassing . . . ?”</p><p>“Embarrassing? Me? Embarrassing you?” Jude balked. “That’s rich.” Jude crossed her arms prissily. “Mom, he was a creep and you’re there oozing your smiley, ridiculous . . .”</p><p>The car cat clattered as if nodding.</p><p>“How is he a creep? Because he wanted to give me investment advice?”</p><p>Jude couldn’t believe how dense her mother could be. It was clear that “Matt” wanted to give her a lot more than investment advice.</p><p>“How is it possible that you’re this stupid?”</p><p>Tara’s mouth opened then shut. A pained expression flashed across her face. Even the curls on her head appeared to deflate. Jude had never said anything as explicitly, deliberately mean to her mom before. She felt bad about it as soon as it flew out of her mouth, and while her mother wasn’t dumb, she was frequently mistaken for being, well, a little airheaded. Tara ran regional operations for a multinational events-planning agency, spoke in hashtags, and was frequently dressed as if attending a boy-band concert. That was her way. Jude was constantly running defense for her. The neighborhood men circled Tara like sharks, conveniently underfoot to help with high supermarket shelves or offer unsolicited mansplainage on any number of topics. The way they lingered by Tara’s car, eyes glittering like seeds, as if waiting for something, sketched Jude out. It didn’t help that Tara was invariably welcoming. Jude gazed out the window. Fighting with her mother had become routine. But now that Jude was leaving, Tara had to get better at navigating the world. Steering clear of unrepentant scumbags was a start. Jude was exhausted. Of worrying about Tara. Of resenting her.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>Sebastian enjoyed an odd commute. A single dresser and about 2 yards of space. On one hand, he could rely on experiencing zero traffic. On the other, he felt like he was always at work. Freelance, Sebastian was at least earning some money with his own schedule so to speak and in the comfort of his own room. His home a Craftsman with a gabled roof and a garage with a small side fence leading to Maru's room out front. It was, for lack of a better word, homey, his room boasted creaky wood floors, no windows, built-in bookcases, and ratty sofas with mismatched chairs.</p><p>Sebastian lay in bed and collected his thoughts. It was dark out. Still. Another restless night meant another grim day of functioning as if underwater.</p><p>He glanced at his jail-broken phone. Four forty-three a.m. He’d gone to sleep sometime before two. He remembered a time when you couldn’t kick him out of bed before noon. Salad days.</p><p>GUH.</p><p>At least there was coffee. Reliable, delicious, life-giving coffee. He padded upstairs. An hour later, the aroma of freshly ground beans commingled with the smell of carbs frying in grease.</p><p>It was still early but he preferred the silence of the mornings overlooking the lake. Lost in thought for a better part of the morning he must have dozed off because he had startled awake when a pine-cone fell from the tree he had been sitting under."Damn," Sebastian dusted himself off and stretched his limbs. Checking the time and noting it was a little past noon, he started to head out to Sam's place.</p><p>Once there they both nodded in greeting when Sam put down his guitar and stared at Sebastian with a questioning look, Sam cocked his head. “Say, Seb, you all right?” Sam was also the only one to regularly inquire about his mood. The thing about Sebastian was that he had a tell. Well, two. They weren’t an exact science, but they gave you a sense. One was his hair. He had a great head of hair. Dark and longer on top, his ex-girlfriend—who came up as “Liar” on his phone now—had referred to it as<em> irresponsible hair.</em></p><p>If it was relaxed, Sebastian was chill. If it was slicked back, he was spoiling for a fight. If it was fluffy—a very rare treat—it meant he completely trusted whoever was around at the time. Sebastian’s hair hadn’t been fluffy in a while. Today it was tucked back yet also, kinda, done. With the telltale sheen of product. It was inscrutable.</p><p>Avid Sebastian observers, especially if they were monitoring him in his own habitat, could check for his next tell. Sebastian’s happiness was somehow tied to his desire to talk. When you greeted him and all you got in return was a cold stare, you were better to keep a wide berth. You should treat him as you would a man with a scab where his eye had been and the words “NOT TODAY, SATAN” branded in giant letters across his forehead—with caution.</p><p>If he nodded and said "Hey" it meant that Sebastian was in a good mood. For him anyway. Today he’d done a simple nod—and that could mean anything. </p><p>“Yeah, Sam. Doing great.” Sebastian carefully placed his phone on top of his electric keyboard with a small smile. The smile may have been the most unnerving part. Sometimes Sebastian appeared a touch unhinged on the rare occasions he did it. As if his face were out of practice. Not that he frowned either—that betrayed too much information. Mostly he stared straight through you.</p><p>“Okay, then,” said Sam, glancing over at Sebastian as he went to grab his guitar again. Just to make sure.</p><p>Sebastian went over his instrument to make sure everything was good and ready for practice. His hands were bony and veiny and moved quickly. His arms, lean, tanned, and blanketed in tattoos, would have looked at home on a Russian convict. Sebastian had a lot of tattoos. All over his chest, back, and calves.</p><p>Of course a lot of people just assumed he was up to no good simply because of the way he looked and probably acted, but Sebastian wasn’t just any guy. He didn’t concern himself with how other people viewed him especially doctors with crippling masculinity issues and no necks. Man he really needed to stop thinking about <em>him</em>.</p><p>A few hours later hanging out in front of Sam's place.</p><p>"How was your last city excursion?" asked Sam,</p><p>"It went..." said Sebastian</p><p>"Did you meet anyone?"</p><p>"Why do you ask?" asked Sebastian a bit annoyed with the sudden interrogation</p><p>"Just, I got a text from someone saying they couldn't wait to see you again, Come on Seb. you’ve got to manage expectations."</p><p>Sebastian smiled his wonky smile.</p><p>Sam studied him warily.</p><p>“Dude. Please.” Sam’s shoulders slumped. “I know you're getting over what happened but please stop giving them my number,” said Sam, hands up in a defense pose. “Yo, I get it. They're hot but my phone bills are started to get high.”</p><p>Sebastian frowned at any mention of the incident.</p><p>"Alright, I'll try and keep it at a minimum from now on." said Sebastian</p><p>“Seriously, Seb, I know you were in a bad place for so long,” said Sam. “Monster-ass chem trails coming out of your ears, man. but I'm just trying to help"</p><p>"You don't have to worry," mumbled Sebastian looking down "I'm fine."</p><p>Sam shoulder bumped Sebastian "You were too good for her anyway"</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>It was the big day. Jude considered feeling sad. It was supposed to be bittersweet, wasn’t it? Leaving home and going off to a new place was <em>A Thing.</em> She blinked for moisture—no dice. She went downstairs. While Jude’s walls were bare, every other surface in Tara’s home, much like her car or her desk at work, was covered with keepsakes. According to Jude, her mom wasn’t very mom-like. It wasn’t solely that she dressed like a fashion blogger and was younger than other moms. Tara didn’t monitor Jude’s homework or insist on piano lessons. When she was three they’d visited her grandparents at Pelican Town, but she’d been too little to remember anything and they’d never gone back. Tara did, however, dedicate a small corner in her home. An altar of sorts, with all of her childhood belongings and anything relating to Pelican town. Including the envelope she'd stumbled upon looking for an old Yoba statue her mother had claimed to have in a box, containing all the details of her new home from her grandfather, now passed.</p><p>Elsewhere in the house there were snow globes galore, Eiffel Towers of varying sizes and framed pictures of World-Famous Art—two renditions of Van Gogh’s Starry Night (one on a tea towel), Monet’s water lilies, and several of Degas’s blurry ballerinas. Jude called the whole lot “fridge magnet art.” Stuff you’d seen enough times that you could imagine the factory workers in China rolling their eyes about having to keep churning it out.</p><p>The only memento Jude prized was a framed picture of her parents. She’d carefully wrapped it in a T-shirt and stowed it in her bag to bring to her new home. It was the only photo she had of them, possibly the only one in existence, and Jude treasured it. It was the source of 50 percent of the material in her “dad” dossier.</p><p>Other information included:</p><p> 1. Jude’s mom and dad had met, of all places, in a bowling alley on dates with other people.</p><p>2. Her dad had a cute butt (Tara's words) because he played baseball in high school.</p><p>3. They were inseparable. Until, of course, they weren’t.</p><p>4. His name was Jaxon Weller and as far as Jude knew he'd passed away a few of years ago from some accident</p><p>In the picture, Jude’s parents are at the beach in Pelican Town. They’re kids. Tara hasn’t visibly changed over the years, except her face was rounder then, fuller in the cheeks and lips. They’re sitting on a black and yellow Batman beach towel. Jaxon Weller has a straw cowboy hat perched on his head but no shirt. Tara’s wearing a trucker hat that says PORN STAR, a bright red bikini, legs crisscrossed, and she’s grinning behind huge white sunglasses while holding an ICEE. Tara swears the ICEE must have been a pregnancy craving since blue raspberry usually makes her gag. To Jude, it’s cosmically unfair that her mom’s tummy can be that flat while she’s pregnant, but then it’s hardly fair that her dark-eyed father would skip town two months before Jude was born either.</p><p>“He was the funniest guy I’d ever met,” Tara said when Jude unwrapped the parcel on her eighth birthday. “He asked the best questions.” Jude had been asking a lot of questions for a genealogy assignment. She wanted to know everything (mostly as it related to her)—whether he asked about Jude, if he had another family with brothers and sisters for her to play with, when she could see him. But Jude could tell Tara hated talking about him. She became withdrawn and went to her room with a headache. So Jude shoved the questions to the back of her brain and never brought him up again. The photo, she kept in a drawer.</p><p>Downstairs, Tara was sniffling in the kitchen, as she’d been when Jude went to bed. Jude suspected a performative aspect to her mom’s crying. Comparable to YouTubers sobbing during heavily edited confessional vlogs, Tara bawled lustily during the semifinals of reality singing competitions and any movie involving animals. Jude would rather eat a pound of hair than reveal her true emotions. Not to mention how Jude wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop once she got going.</p><p>“Mom?”</p><p>Tara glanced up from the wadded tissues in her hands. Her eyes were puffy as if she actually had been crying all night.</p><p>“Hi, baby.” She smiled before crumpling again. “Can I please come with you? I could buy you lunch. Help you decorate?”</p><p>“I can buy my own lunch,” Jude said. “Plus, you’d have to trail me in your car and drive all the way back by yourself. I’d have to get back in my car and follow you to make sure you got home safe. A vicious cycle.”</p><p>Tara swallowed. “You know, I didn’t know it would hurt this bad?” She seemed genuinely surprised. Tara’s narrow shoulders quivered like an agitated Chihuahua. Jude sighed and hugged her. She was going to miss her.</p><p>Oh, shit. Am I going to cry?</p><p>She squeezed her eyes tighter for any reciprocal condensation.</p><p>Nope.</p><p>“Well, I’m proud of you, no matter what.” Tara said, pulling away and smiling bravely.</p><p>Jude peered down at her. Tara seemed small. Feeble really. And damp. In the afternoon light, in jeans and a faded T-shirt that read SLAY HUNTY, Tara looked more like a person her age than anyone's mother.</p><p>It was sad that things had gotten so bad between them. When Jude was in grade school, they’d been thick as thieves. Back when the greatest excitement Jude could imagine was having a Starbucks salted caramel mocha for breakfast, Jude thought she was so lucky to have her mom as her best friend. She could stay up late, wear makeup, borrow her mom’s clothes, and dye her hair any color of the rainbow—life was a riot—a never-ending slumber party. In middle school Jude started to see things differently. She no longer texted her mother a thousand times a day for outfit approval or advice. Tara and Jude became a study in contrasts. Tara was proud of her well-mannered, studious daughter, teaching her how to forge her name on letters from school and getting Jude her own credit card for “fashion emergencies.” Tara encouraged Jude to get her hardship driver’s license at fifteen, not because they needed her to but because Tara thought it would bolster Jude’s popularity to drive her friends around. The harder Tara tried, the more Jude pulled away. If anything, Jude resented that Tara had decided somewhere along the way that her daughter could parent herself.</p><p>Jude walked to the driveway with her mom trailing her. She turned for a one-armed hug. Imagining herself as part of an animal control unit lassoing a python in a studio apartment, she held Tara’s gaze with her own the whole time. Then—with no sudden movements—she deftly popped the car door open with her free hand and slid in. Seat belt fastened, Jude eased out of the driveway and into freedom. Part of her dreaded going to a new place alone.</p><p>“I love you, baby!” wailed Tara, jolting Jude from her thoughts.</p><p>Jude rolled down her window. “I love you too, Mom. I’ll call you later. I promise.”</p><p>This time Jude did feel a pang. Her nose got that stinging, chlorine feeling you get right when you’re about to cry. She checked her rearview to see her already small mom getting smaller, waving big.</p><p>A few hours later, Jude pulled into the curved driveway.</p><p>“Jesus,” she whispered, clutching her steering wheel to gaze up at the small house. It had been awhile since anyone had been here, Jude wondered if you could feel the ugliness from the inside. Getting out of the car and take the view of the house and the rest of the farm land she failed to notice the older man and red haired woman show up standing by her car.</p><p>"Hello?" Jude said questioningly.</p><p>"Hi you must be Jude, I apologize I hadn't been expecting... you," said the man "My name is Lewis, I'm the mayor of Pelican town and this here is Robin our resident carpenter"</p><p>wow. first 5 minutes and I'm already not what anyone expected.</p><p>"Hi, I'm sorry I wasn't expecting anyone today" said Jude</p><p>"We just wanted to formally introduce ourselves and let you know if you need anything you can come to us for help," said Robin "We know the house is.. rough at the moment since it's been empty for a while but we cleaned it up a bit before you got here hoping to make the transition a bit more smooth for you."</p><p>"Yes and we also wanted to give you another set of keys for you to have just in case" answered Lewis</p><p>"Oh, you didn't have to do that, but I appreciate you looking out for me. Thank you, both of you." Jude said looking at the scenery behind them and not directly at them. Jude had a hard to meeting new people, she was a bit crippled when it came to social interactions as it is but being the new person in a place as established as Pelican Town made her want to rethink the whole moving thing.</p><p>"We hope to see you out and about once you get settled in. The whole town has been buzzing about the new addition," smiled Lewis "Well we'll let you continue with your day. if you need anything please don't hesitate to let us know." with those parting words they both waved their good-byes and left.</p><p>Jude’s face strained from the false cheer, that was definitely more nerve-wracking than it was meant to be. When Jude swung her door open, she noticed the room smelled of Febreze, overly so. but it was clean. And for that she was grateful. Jude began lugging her stuff in, she grabbed her toiletry bag out of her suitcase and made a beeline for the bathroom. It was the size of a closet. You could’ve washed your hair while sitting on the toilet by leaning into the shower stall. Jude placed her bag on the toilet tank, figured it was perilously close to potential pee splash-back and set it on the side of the sink. From another stash bag, she pulled out a roll of toilet paper, a microbe-free shower curtain, a toothbrush holder that didn’t have a well on the bottom where water could collect, a brand-new shower mat, and towels. Jude arranged everything exactly the way that made sense. TP was hung in the correct direction (“over” obviously; “under” was for murderers). When she was done, she marched back out and put away anything and everything she felt belonged in its place. Her place. It was new and exciting but also terrifying. When she stepped out of the front door, her new life would begin.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Recollection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sebastian has a hard time getting through the day when all he wants is for things to go back to normal or a relative sense of normality.<br/>Jude meets up with Sam on a Friday evening.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>Today was not panning out the way he had thought it would. With his bouts of insomnia actually falling asleep should have been a blessing, but it was as if his entire being was simply rejecting his sense of peace. Instead of completely knocking out and having a dreamless sleep as anyone would had they been sleeping the way Sebastian had, he was re-living his past through his dreams. As if they would change the way he felt now, laying in his bed staring up at his ceiling recollections of his dream or his past memories to be more accurate came back to the forefront of his mind.</p><p>
  <em>Abigail smiled at Sebastian.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sebastian smiled at Abigail.</em>
</p><p>Abigail’s smile was better than Sebastian’s.</p><p>Sebastian remembered the first time she’d smiled at him. It was Christmas Day a decade or so ago and Sebastian was ornery when he opened the door. Bad enough he was forced to wear itchy pants that bunched at the crotch, but to add insult to injury, his mom, Robin, made him put on a tie.</p><p>“Put on a tie,” she’d said. Just like that. She had curlers in her hair and smelled of the perfume that she had in a glass teardrop on the bathroom counter.</p><p>“Hurry up.” She swatted his arm as she squeezed past in their comically snug hall. Sebastian studied her as she shambled into the kitchen and tried to see her as anyone else would, as a woman. She looked haggard. In a rush to make things absolutely perfect, for who? Some random people he had met once and hoped to never actually talk to again. </p><p>“What tie?” he shot back. At no point in his eleven years of existence had anyone thought to buy him a tie. She huffily pulled one from his dad’s stuff that was collected in Walgreens bags in the hall closet and threw it at him. It was green and maroon with musical notes at the bottom.</p><p>“Do you even know how to tie a tie?” she shouted, switching on the vacuum.</p><p>“Obviously,” he yelled back.</p><p>He YouTubed it.</p><p>These past few weeks had been ominously different. Robin’d spent days baking, cleaning, and buying holiday decorations they couldn’t afford. Her nervous energy made Sebastian watchful, though it had been oddly reassuring to see the kolaches arranged on cookie sheets—prune and apricot. There were also spiced stars, Zimstern in German, that made the air fragrant with cinnamon, reminding Sebastian of happier times. Like the one Christmas they’d spent as a family with a shitty plastic tree and a few of his dad’s vinyl records wrapped in newspaper for Sebastian underneath.</p><p>Sebastian loosened his tie as he answered the door. Robin wasn’t big on communication with her trying to make everything <em>"absolutely perfect,"</em> and other than the barb about the tie and instructions to look nice, Sebastian didn’t know what she had planned. He hadn’t been expecting a kid. Let alone a smiling small, eight-year-old girl in a blue velvet dress and a ponytail. The kid had the same horse face as the stern, brown-haired guy next to her. His eyes were dark, as cold as holes, and behind them was Robin’s new friend, Caroline. She held a red satin bag aloft with a bottle of champagne peeking out of the top. Her smile faltered only for a second when she saw that it was Sebastian.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, kiddo,” bellowed Caroline.</p><p>“Hey,” said Sebastian.</p><p>“This is Pierre, my husband,” Caroline said, patting the man on the shoulder. “And my daughter Abigail.” Sebastian nodded evenly.</p><p>“Oh,” sputtered Robin, appearing behind him. Her voice was strangled, higher pitched than usual. “I wasn't expecting you so soon . . .” Sebastian pulled on his tie again.</p><p>“It’s my fault,” said Pierre, shooting his hand out to Robin by way of a greeting. “I insisted, we didn't want to be late.”</p><p>She took it and Sebastian instinctively stepped toward Pierre to buffer his mom.</p><p>"Oh,” said Robin again. Sebastian fought the urge to slam the door.</p><p>“You’re older than my mom said you were,” whispered Abigail.</p><p>It was trippy how memories worked. Sebastian couldn’t dredge up a solitary detail from Thanksgiving Day two years ago, or what he’d done this past New Year’s, yet he remembered everything about when he and Abigail met.</p><p>The little kid wouldn’t shut up. Caroline and Robin made short work of the champagne, and Pierre parked Abigail in Sebastian’s room with a plate of cookies while the “grown-ups talked.” Abigail’s family was loaded. At eight she had her own iPad and phone, as well a bag of “travel-size games.” And as much as Sebastian wanted to ignore her, she wouldn’t stop yammering. “Do you know how to play backgammon?” She set up the pieces on his bed. Sebastian cranked up the music in his shitty headphones and turned his back in response. She slowly crawled over next to him and asked what he was listening to. Sebastian sighed, plugged his headphones into Abigail’s iPad, and put them on her. He showed her a few videos. Heavy hitters like corgis waddling on a trampoline and baby pandas squirming to a medley of dancehall music. There was a supercut of a cockatoo that played piano with its feet, and once Abigail settled into an instructional of a woman making cupcakes resembling acid-washed jeans, Sebastian checked on his mom.</p><p>Through the crack of his door he could see Robin at the sink alone, drinking a tall glass of orange juice that likely contained as much vodka. The others were out of sight though not out of earshot. For the next hour Sebastian and Abigail watched videos.</p><p>When it came time for them to leave, Abigail’s dad collected her, took out his wallet, removed four twenty-dollar bills, and tossed them on Sebastian’s bed, not once looking directly at him.</p><p>He shut the door without a word.</p><p>After that he made it his mission to avoid them at all costs, somehow it became fairly easy considering they went out of town a lot. Mostly the women, Pierre stayed to take care of his store most of the time but he and Sebastian never really spoke unless absolutely necessary. A few years had passed before they were in town for good. It was unsettling to see her again. Abigail was now five seven to Sebastian's six foot (okay, five eleven and a half), but whereas Sebastian was scrawny, Abigail was solid. She reeked of health, Sebastian bet she could bench-press him if she wanted. He felt both strangely protective of her in a mammalian way—like how he imagined people in normal families felt toward each other—and deeply uncomfortable that she’d be hanging around.</p><p>Her father had actually cornered him one evening while he was grabbing a few things for his mom. "Stay away from my daughter, kid" Pierre had told him. He was a class act through and through. But he didn't need to tell him twice, Sebastian made sure he and Abigail were never alone or even within a few feet of each other for the next years after that.</p><p>Getting up from the comfort of his bed he made his way into his kitchen to make something to eat when his mom walked in and saw him.</p><p>Sebastian awkwardly fixed his hair and took a slug of coffee to have something to do with his hands.</p><p>“Caffeine’s a helluva a drug,” she said, eyeing his cup.</p><p>He laughed.</p><p>She smiled at him and gave him a hug. "You going out today?"</p><p>Sebastian shrugged. “We’ll see,” he said.</p><p>“Well.” She grabbed his forearm, "Just make sure you stay safe okay."</p><p>Sebastian smiled dryly.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>Finally done with a few things in her new home, she'd had a checklist of things she might need and went into town.</p><p>Stepping into the general store in town she quickly introduced herself to the owner and his wife Caroline. Buying everything she needed she made a beeline for the exit and failed to notice the man coming into the store, bumping into him in the process. "Ow." she looked up and saw a man adjusting his glasses and extend his hand to help her back up. "I'm really sorry, I should've been paying more attention" said Jude trying to sound less embarrassed.</p><p>"It's alright, are you hurt?" said the man</p><p>"N-nope" she said quickly</p><p>"That's good," he studied her closely. "you must be the new farmer, my name is Harvey I'm the towns doctor"</p><p>"Oh hello, my name is Jude"</p><p>"Take care of yourself and if you need anything come by the clinic" and he walked off to speak with Pierre at the register</p><p>Shooting one last glance towards him, she exited the store with her bags full and went into the Saloon for a quick bite. Once there she met the owner Gus, at a head taller than Jude and a hundred and fifty pounds heavier, Gus was an enormous man with forearms the size of barrels. He reminded her a little of Donkey Kong, but Jude didn’t think it was the sort of thing you told someone. Especially considering he was so kind to her, they made small talk while she ate and he let her know that Fridays were the days most of the townsfolk came after a long week. She smiled at him and said she would try and drop by then.</p><p>The following days after that she'd introduced herself to most of the other townsfolk and made herself busy with the farm that she hadn't noticed how quickly it had gone by. It was late afternoon and she remembered one of the guys she had met earlier in the week invited her to play pool with him and his friend. He seemed friendly enough and she didn't want to lose a chance of making friends simply because she was socially inept. She went into her tiny closet picked out a simple outfit, and brushed her hair. She considered wearing light makeup but she figured it was simpler to go without.</p><p>As she entered the Saloon she noticed that Gus was right, a good portion of townsfolk were in attendance. She looked around and spotted the blonde boy standing near a fireplace talking animatedly at the pretty school teacher she'd met—Penny, and made her way over.</p><p>"Uh, hi"</p><p>"Hey! you made it, I'm glad you showed up now we can have even teams. Do you know how to play pool?" he said smiling from ear to ear</p><p>"Yeah but I'm not all that good"</p><p>"It's alright neither am I and now it'll be a fair game right Seb?" he said looking towards the back.</p><p>Jude just smiled and followed them towards their table.</p><p>"We're just gonna grab something to eat real quick before we play," Sam went to tell something to his friend and as her and Penny were getting acquainted with each other they made their way towards the table. "This is Sebastian" said Sam.</p><p>Jude smiled at him for a second, then changed her mind. He responded with a grimace.</p><p>He quickly said hi and she waved at a spot slightly left of his ear. He was standing and taking everyone's drink orders</p><p>“What are you having,” he asked. “Jude was it?”</p><p>Sebastian followed Jude’s sight line to her shoes. Which, coincidentally, were exactly his shoes though smaller.</p><p>“Great taste,” he said, nodding at her feet.</p><p>Jude’s mouth made the shape of an “O,” but no sound escaped.</p><p>“Let me guess,” he said to Jude. “You want a bone-dry half-caff cappuccino with a caramel drizzle?”</p><p>Jude cleared her throat and nodded.</p><p>“What are the odds?” he asked her, fairly certain that it wasn’t at all what she wanted.</p><p>Sebastian studied Jude out of the corner of his eye. Her messy hair lent her an air of zaniness. She looked like a scribbled-in-graphite drawing.</p><p>“Actually, may I have an iced coffee?” she piped up.</p><p>“Of course you may,” he said pointedly.</p><p>Sam looked at him and gave him a knowing smile. Sebastian shook his head. There was no way he was going to mix it up with her. Even he wasn’t that dumb. . .</p><p>The three of them sat on a floral couch toward the back with Penny in the middle. They set down their drinks and Sebastian said he was getting some air and quickly disappeared. Jude talked about her job back in the city and Sam mentioned he used to live in the city before they moved here to Pelican town. Penny wanted to have a field trip once the bus was repaired for the kids to see museums and gardens. As they got to know each other a bit more Jude saw Sebastian had stopped to talk to Robin.</p><p>“Whoa,” said Jude, realizing what should have been obvious. “It’s not just the shoes,” she whispered.</p><p>“What?” asked Sam in an outside voice. Jude huddled closer.</p><p>“Me and your friend are wearing the same outfit.”</p><p>Sam and Penny craned their necks. It was true; they were both wearing black T-shirts with three-quarter-length sleeves, black belts with burnished silver buckles, and skinny black jeans with holes at both knees and black high-top Chucks.</p><p>“Oh my God,” said Penny. "that's kind of cute"</p><p> Jude silent-screamed.</p><p>Sebastian was arranging dirty mugs on a tray from his moms table. He had a cowlick on his head. An unruly little curlicue that rose off his otherwise very cool hair. He probably hated it. Jude loved when that happened. When a single detail rebelled against the package. She wanted to touch it. Jude looked away before she got caught staring. She picked up their empty glasses and went to drop them off at the bar. Turning around and suddenly bumping into a purple haired girl and doctor Harvey yet again, dropping her purse spilling the contents in the process.</p><p>“Clown car much? Are you going to pull out a ladder and a Volkswagen bus next?” said the purple haired girl.</p><p>Jude wanted to ask who in the hell would put a bus in a car but was distracted by whether or not she’d packed anything mortifying in her bag.</p><p>“Good Lord, it’s like doomsday prepping in here.” she said as she helped Jude pick up her things from the floor.</p><p>Let me guess—you have little packets of Sweet’n Low and coupons too? How adorable.”</p><p>“So adorable,” repeated Harvey, handing the stain stick to Jude.</p><p>Jude despised the word “adorable.” It was trivializing.</p><p>She continued picking up the contents of Jude’s crap bag as if they were surgical instruments. Hand sanitizer, ear plugs, thumb drive, Advil, Q-tips, bobby pins, sewing kit, tiny IKEA pencil . . .</p><p>“Oooh, and a single condom.” she held the foil square between her thumb and forefinger.</p><p>
  <em>That was it.</em>
</p><p>Jude snatched back the condom and apologized for bumping into them.</p><p>The purple haired girl simply waved her hand and said it was fine as she made her way to a back table like nothing had happened.</p><p>Mortified she made her way back to Sam and Penny and when they asked why she was so red she simply nodded.</p><p>“What did I miss?” Sebastian joined them, setting another espresso down next to his old one. Jude regarded the twin cups.</p><p>“Tepid,” he explained, finally taking a seat on the chair next to her. Jude loved that word. It was the most perfect way to describe the temperature. The word “pith” was the same. Everything about it recalled the spongy stuff in oranges.</p><p>Sebastian reached over her to grab a packet of sugar. “Pardon my reach.”</p><p>Jude held her breath and leaned back so she wouldn’t creepily fog up his cheek. She caught a part of the tattoo where the sleeve of his T-shirt rode up. It was either a hand or a set of hands. It easily ranked within the top three most erotic sights of her life.</p><p>Sebastian’s armchair was set slightly higher than them on the sofa and he crossed his legs elegantly. His right knee brushed Jude’s left and she almost passed out. With the comically small espresso cup in his thin hands, Jude wondered for a second if he was gay. Not that it was any of her business.</p><p>“So we ready to play pool or what?"</p><p>"Yeah get ready to lose" said Sam</p><p>Sebastian laughed. He rubbed his bicep to reveal a shadow of another tattoo under his other sleeve. It was some kind of animal. Jude’s knee felt warm where he had touched it, and she flushed. Jude wondered what the tattoo was. Potentially a horse head. A chess piece maybe. A black knight. Jude would probably get a bishop tattoo if she were to get anything off a chessboard. They were discreet and effective. Total stealth movers.</p><p>As they got up to play they continued talking about their lives, she learned they were in a band.</p><p>Sebastian definitely looked like he could have been in a band. A dreamy, brooding band. Jude thought cigarettes were pointless and smelled awful, but she imagined that Sebastian smoked and that he looked cool doing it.</p><p>God, she would totally smoke a cigarette if he offered her one. They’d be a striking pair in their identical outfits leaned up against a wall and smoking all cool.</p><p>
  <em>As cool as glaucoma and lung cancer.</em>
</p><p>Jude had never had a cigarette in her life, and if they did smoke together she would probably have a coughing fit that lasted forever and ended on an audible fart.</p><p>Jesus, pull it together. Seriously, what was happening to her?</p><p>Sebastian was different. Sleek. Brooding and angular. An Egon Schiele portrait. Schiele if she remembered correctly had been a protégé of Gustav Klimt and had a propensity for drawing himself in the nude.</p><p>Nude.</p><p>“So,” Sebastian said, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Are y’all cool with doing this again next week?”</p><p>Schiele probably didn’t say “y’all” though.</p><p>The three of them mostly turned to look at her, making her blush.</p><p>She nodded quickly which probably made all the screws in her head come loose.</p><p>She blushed harder.</p><p>Kill me now.</p><p>Sebastian smiled disarmingly as he stacked his espresso cups.</p><p>Jude knew emoji hearts were flying out of her eyes. She was smitten mitten kittens. She’d never really met anyone her age she actually liked, not in the sense she was feeling now anyway. Not that Sebastian was her age exactly. Jude had all kinds of questions she wanted to ask him, whether he felt like a ghost trolling the living, mining their existence for ideas; whether or not he got lonely watching other people the way Jude did.</p><p>Sebastian and Sam were putting things back in their respective places and talked amongst themselves, while her and Penny cleaned off the tables and gathered their things. Sebastian had resting bitch face until he laughed. Jude had never wanted anything as bad as to make him do it again. His hotness was making eye contact unbearable, and her cheeks tingled pleasurably.</p><p>Penny cleared her throat causing Jude to look at her and realize she'd been staring. "Sorry" she mumbled looking away quickly</p><p>Sebastian cracked his knuckles in a super-attractive, kinda menacing way. With his arms in front of his chest, she could see more hints of tattoos at his throat. The French word for throat is “gorge.” And, Christ, his was indeed. Sebastian had somehow found the Perfect Shirt with the Perfect Collar, which was stretched out just enough to create this enticing peekaboo effect.</p><p>Sebastian absentmindedly patted his cowlick down, showing a flash of white above his armpit.</p><p>Even Sebastian’s armpit was hot.</p><p>As they finished getting their things and she went to say goodbye to the guys she saw Sebastian was staring at her.</p><p>wait is he?</p><p>As she neared she noticed his look went past her.</p><p>Sebastian stood up suddenly.</p><p>"Bye" Sebastian said distractedly as he excused himself.</p><p>Leaving the three of them confused as he left.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Unexpected Complication</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He thought about the A word.</p><p>A-B-O-R-T-I-O-N</p><p>AH BORSH SHUNN</p><p>BORSCHT</p><p>As in the beet-red soup with soft bits in it.</p><p>Borscht. Borscht. Borscht.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>Knowing that your only computer was about to crap out on you despite not having nearly enough money to replace it can only be described as horror. Horror and terror. Torror.</p><p>Sebastian drummed impotently on the trackpad a few times and pounded hard. The pinwheel of death persisted.</p><p>Shit.</p><p>He calmly closed the sticker-covered laptop, briefly considering rolling into a ball and ugly-crying for the rest of the day.</p><p>The ancient machine—his trusted steed since junior year of high school—already didn’t qualify as a laptop because it had to be plugged in or it would die. Plus, the colors bled together on-screen so you felt as though you were on hallucinogens no matter what site you were on.</p><p>But if a computer was at a virtual standstill on the information superhighway, it had to be taken out back and shot.</p><p>Sebastian breathed deeply and raggedly counted to ten.</p><p>By his tabulations, he didn’t have enough in his checking account to get money out of it. An ATM wouldn’t dignify you with a response unless you had the minimum of twenty bucks and Sebastian had seventeen dollars. Minus the two bucks for the ATM fee.</p><p>He needed the laptop to take an online class so he could learn what he couldn’t from YouTube tutorials. Only now he couldn’t torrent any of the required watching.</p><p>Sebastian flexed the toes on his right foot. The sole of his black sneaker was split where it met canvas. He grabbed black gaffer’s tape out of his backpack, tore off a piece, and taped the hole shut. The sticky electrical tape solved most issues—except fried motherboards. Maybe he’d stop going outside altogether. He’d shuffle shoelessly from his bedroom to the kitchen and back again—a correspondence-course-taking Sisyphus.</p><p>He checked the clock above the door: two forty-five. That glorious lull between lunch and the four p.m. caffeine fix. He stared at his keys on the desk and wondered if he should just take a quick visit into the city, at least he wouldn't have to think about his computer or much of anything else for that matter. Sebastian sighed, he wondered if he still possessed the necessary antibodies to venture outside. Maybe he’d get some ancient disease that we thought we were done with, like polio or smallpox. Did people get smallpox anymore? He needed to read a book once in a while. Isn’t that what people in recovery did? Get a hobby? Christ, “recovery” was so dramatic.</p><p>Sebastian could have killed a beer right now. Hell, he could tear through a six-pack lickety-split. He thought about the yeasty bite of a Shiner Bock, his mother’s favorite and the first beer he’d ever tasted at six years old, and how it had been months since he’d held a cold one to his mouth. Instead he took a long pull from a glass of water and cleaned. He needed something to do with his hands while his thoughts churned. Sebastian fluffed pillows, wiped down counters, recycled the papers, and washed dishes with scalding water. He was reassured by the way his knuckles felt tight and parched afterward.</p><p>Sebastian imagined his rough hands entwined with Abigail’s. Liar Abigail. His ex. She’d had beautiful hands. “Hand-model hands” her friends had called them. Long, articulate fingers with slender nail beds. But Sebastian worshipped her feet. Stubby-toed and flat, she hid them as a policy, refusing to wear sandals in the summer, which only served to make them more desirable. They were hilarious, full of personality. Clever feet that picked pens up from the floor when they thought no one was watching. The rest of Abigail had consistently been too cool for him. As aloof as a black-and-white photo of a French girl. He remembered seeing her in the city as newly aged adults and knew from the second he saw her then that he had to ask her out. <em>He had to.</em></p><p>She was DJing at a tiny club with no sign called Bassment, wearing a white silky slip dress. Her hair was pale pink and shoulder-length, dyed ultramarine at the tips. Huge swoops of black encircled her shimmering green eyes. She was unmistakably sexy. Sexy. Sebastian hated that word the way other people hated “moist” or “panty,” but there was no other way to describe her. Abigail was plain sexy. And terrifying.</p><p>Not that Sebastian was all the way innocent when they got together.  “Little Sebastian” had a smart mouth and the ladies loved him. He was selfie bait for older drunk chicks. There wasn’t a bar that the kid couldn’t get into—he knew everyone, or at least his dad did and he was the spit-and-image of his old man—though precocious as he was, he’d never been in love. That was until he saw Abigail up there on the dais, neon green headphones, ignoring him. Sebastian was a goner. Sucker-punched and clobbered.</p><p>He waited an hour to talk to her. Then another. Another two passed.</p><p>At three a.m., when the lights came on, he nodded and asked, “So, where we going?”</p><p>“Food,” she said, tossing her bag at him.</p><p>They drove to a diner, where she devoured a heaping plate of migas. Sebastian ordered coffee, and when they were finished and walking out into the street, without warning she hoisted herself into his arms, wrapped her legs around him, and kissed him. Sebastian was stoked—stoked that it was happening and stoked that he’d grown three inches over the summer and could lift her. Her breath tasted of green peppers and cigarettes and her confidence was mind-blowing. His mother used to say you shouldn’t marry anyone you wouldn’t want to divorce, and he understood that now. Abigail was the emotional equivalent of a hollow-point round; the exit wound was a shit show.</p><p>Sebastian grabbed some candles his mom had bought for his room that she said he'd like better. The new ones smelled good, recently washed clothing-clean. He held them under his nose. Sobriety meant a low-level boredom all the time. Taking pleasure in small, repetitive tasks was the big show of the whole day. Sure there weren’t dazzling, dizzying highs anymore, no careening around the town with the most enigmatic and emotionally toxic woman he’d ever been with. There would be no screwing each other’s brains out in a dazed, compulsive panic, but at least there were new candles in his room. He admired his tidied up space.</p><p>Right then, as if she begrudged him this tiny victory, Liar texted him.</p><p>Call me.</p><p>Shit.</p><p>Sebastian’s hands got clammy when his fight-or-flight response was triggered. Under the right light you could actually see the sheen of moisture appear on his palms. He’d made a time-lapse video of it once.</p><p>He felt equal parts sick and excited when he heard from her after an absence. The last time they spoke was twenty-seven days ago. Just one day more and he would’ve kicked the habit for good. At least that’s what the books on substance abuse told him. He thought he’d turned over a new leaf. In fact, he’d even begun jogging. Okay, so he’d hopped around the block twice in his busted shoes, but he’d cut back to three cigarettes a day, which for him was the same as completing a half marathon.</p><p>He thought about the pressure of her lips on his. The lemony scent of her hair. He closed his eyes and considered their last meeting and the bad ideas that followed. She’d stormed his small life and disappeared in a mushroom cloud of devastation. <em>Again.</em></p><p>After that last run-in, he’d sent three unanswered texts before he’d been sufficiently humiliated. The first because he told himself he wasn’t the type of guy who slept with someone and ghosted. The next two because his stupid brain was gobsmacked and running on a flustered delay. Now boom: Liar on line one.</p><p>This is what she did. It was as if she knew the moment he was able to wake up without wanting to die and couldn’t abide by it.</p><p>Sebastian stared at the text.</p><p>Call me.</p><p>He wanted to text Sam and see if he could hangout, just to get his mind off of it before he would stew in the dark in his room uninterrupted.</p><p>What the hell was “Call me”?</p><p>Only sadists left that message.</p><p>Sadists and bullies. She might as well have written:</p><p>“Gnaw off your hand.”</p><p>Sebastian knew he was on the right side of history. Let the record show that she was the cheater. He was the spurned lover, the cuckold, the humiliated, the victim.</p><p>GTFO with your Call Me’s!</p><p>Not that he wasn’t tempted.</p><p>Sebastian sighed. Maybe if he called she’d tell him where she’d buried his balls and his heart.</p><p>People cheated on people every second of every day all over the world. It’s just that Sebastian couldn’t believe it had happened to him. By Abigail no less. His Abigail.</p><p>Jesus.</p><p>He’d entombed the event of their actual breakup so deep it’d been effectively redacted from memory. Sebastian leaned on his desk, phone in hand and retrieved the original file from 103 days ago.</p><p>That fateful morning she’d told him she wanted to go to the breakfast taco spot before coming back to Pelican town from their overnight city stay. The <em>not-that-good</em> spot that charged extra for pico de gallo.</p><p>Sebastian wondered if ordering a michelada with his eggs would be distasteful. He needed something to take the edge off after the night they’d had. They’d doubled-down on martinis after a week of fighting about money and Sebastian’s crazy work schedule. And while they both knew going out was a doomed enterprise, they didn’t care.</p><p>That morning Abigail’s hair was pulled into a bun. She appeared admirably refreshed, and Sebastian was grateful that no matter how much dysfunction there was at home, he could rely on his girlfriend to be there for him. He reached under the table to touch her knee when the chips arrived. He’d shoved a few in his mouth before she told him about her and Harvey.</p><p>It hadn’t meant anything.</p><p>Though it had been building up for some time.</p><p>It had happened more than once.</p><p>Sebastian reacted by yelling loud enough that parents eating nearby with their young children gave him the stink-eye.</p><p>Abigail sat there stone-faced.</p><p>“Do you love him?”</p><p>“Do you love me?”</p><p>“Is it something I did?”</p><p>“What the hell’s the matter with you?”</p><p>“Did it feel good?”</p><p>“Better than me?!!!”</p><p>She wouldn’t look at him directly.</p><p>“I don’t love him,” she said.</p><p>“Why, then?” Sebastian implored. He was sobbing. Inconsolable. Abigail, on the other hand, rarely ever cried, and turned cold whenever he did. Her expression hardened, as if his outpouring of emotion slaked any desire for her to feel anything.</p><p>In hindsight he was glad it wasn’t the good taco spot because it would have been ruined forever. Anyplace that charged seventy-five cents for condiments could burn in hell.<em> On principle.</em></p><p>“This,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “This is the problem. Why does it have to be this way with us? Someone having a meltdown. Harvey was . . . He was a distraction. I needed to get out of this. Us.”</p><p>“No,” he said. As if that would make the moment less real. Sebastian shook his head, mind stalled out at the denial stage of grief. “No. We love each other. We’ll always love each other. You’re a part of me.” He searched her face, uncomprehending. It felt crazy to him that she was even another person. Her arm may as well have been his arm. That his arm had the power to turn against the rest of his body and walk away made no sense. Sebastian felt something in his chest crack.</p><p>“We’re addicted to each other,” she said. “It’s not healthy. Harvey’s boring—don’t get me wrong—but he has stability. My parents think he'd be a better choice for me. . .”</p><p>Stability. Sebastian knew what that meant. Stability meant rich. Harvey had money. Money in the same way she did. Rich like he’d never been and never would be. Sebastian reached for her just as she stood up, hesitated, and then walked out.</p><p>After that morning, he’d be out of town more often than any other time in his life and they’d gone months without speaking or running into each other. Sebastian had made sure of it. He avoided their old haunts, telling no one when he'd be home again, and he worked as many hours as he could. It was while on a toothpaste run at a small drugstore in the city that she called his name from down the aisle. Sebastian couldn’t believe how companionable they still felt as they hung back in the parking lot. They made small talk, and no one brought up Harvey. When she suggested they go out for a margarita, it seemed like a great idea. A pitcher of them later, it seemed an even better idea to take their trip down memory lane all the way back to the hotel room he'd been living in for awhile. He hadn’t drunk a drop since. Twenty-seven days. Each one a feat.</p><p>When she disappeared again she became “LIAR” in his phone, and he tried to forget.</p><p>But with a text, a single directive, he felt the pinprick of the tiniest portal open in his heart. She had such beautiful skin. Especially her clavicles. Christ, and her elbows. He loved tracing his fingertips across the crest of bone on any part of her body. </p><p>No, he told himself.</p><p>He wanted to reconfigure his brain. Why couldn’t he control when he thought about her? Why couldn’t he control when she thought about him?</p><p>When they first broke up he’d watched Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind and High Fidelity on a loop. He stopped sleeping. One morning Sam, sensing a need, reached out and hugged him. The two of them stood there for well over ten minutes while Sebastian cried so hard he got the hiccups.</p><p>Nope. Never. Again.</p><p>He deleted the text.</p><p>For the next two hours, he tidied obsessively. Sam texted, and Sebastian nearly had a heart attack thinking it was Abigail. Thankful for the distraction he invited him over, his lower back hurt and Sebastian wondered if his family could detect the crazy in his eyes. By the time they finished playing video games and catching up with Sam's latest shenanigans, he was spent. He walked with Sam outside, Sebastian yawned. He could hear Demetrius in the back, hauling trash. Demetrius unfailingly let the screen door slam, which drove Sebastian nuts, but this time he was too tired to bitch. The only good thing about getting up at the absolute asscrack of dawn was that he was tired by eight and in bed sometimes by eight fifteen. Even if all he did under the covers was blink and not drink.</p><p>Earlier that year, Demetrius had installed an automated gate for Maru that was already no longer automated. Sebastian walked the side of the house to pull it closed. It took both hands and his full body weight.</p><p>“Put your back into it, skinny-ass!” Sam yelled over his shoulder.</p><p>Sebastian laughed. “Your mom,” he said. Sam cackled as he headed back home.</p><p>Your mom? God, he was tired.</p><p>Sebastian’s nickname in school had been AIDS because kids are jerks and because he was so emaciated. He hated his concave body with his visible veins and the individual, stringy muscles that you could watch move under his skin when he worked. Yet somewhere along the line, girls started seeing something in him other than the skinniness, and by then he stopped caring.</p><p>Still, there were times when he wished he were a big, hulking, ham-fisted dude who could slam the stupid gate shut in one go.</p><p>“Sebastian,” called a voice from the shadows.</p><p>Sebastian jumped and made a high-pitched “wooot” that he immediately regretted.</p><p>He knew who it was instantly. And she’d for sure heard his sapless, startled woooot.</p><p>“I texted you,” Abigail said.</p><p>Sebastian was surprised that it had taken only one afternoon for Abigail, a.k.a. LIAR, to materialize. Patience wasn’t her thing, though dropping by after a disappearance was bold even for her.</p><p>“What do you want, Abigail?” Sebastian shot back.</p><p>“We have to talk,” she said.</p><p>Original, he thought.</p><p>“What could there possibly be left to discuss?” He finished locking up. “I mean, if anything, your silence for the past month suggests there’s nothing on the docket.”</p><p>He wished he could subtly sniff his pits to see how he smelled. Why was he only ever running into her when he was completely unprepared? Of course, she was looking as beautiful as she always did. Liar was the worst.</p><p>“Seriously, Abby,” he continued. “You made it clear. We’re ancient history. The Paleozoic era. Older even. Whatever comes before the Paleozoic era. The Anthropocene . . . No, wait, that’s now. . . .” He shoved his sweaty hands into his pockets.</p><p>“Stop talking,” she said.</p><p>He scowled at her.</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>Abigail stepped into the light. She was pale. Paler than usual, which was already poet blouses and Oh-My-Goth levels of pallor.</p><p>Sebastian walked toward the porch steps and sat down. She followed. The sunset smeared pink across the sky as they stared out to the street.</p><p>“What is it?” His hand twitched for the cigarettes he didn’t want to smoke in front of her.</p><p>“Seb,” she said. “I’m late.”</p><p>No joke, he thought for the split second before the full weight of her words hit him.</p><p>He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. They felt numb.</p><p>Of course she was late. It made sense. In fact, it was the only news it could have been. It’s not as if anything ever went the way he thought it would. Abigail, for that matter, was not returning to his life after a spell of soul-searching to tell him she still loved him.</p><p>Christ.</p><p>Late.</p><p>They’d done it this time.</p><p>The dreadful rush of adrenaline was so immediate that he clapped his hands. Just once. Some lizard-brain hard-wiring kicked in to where all he knew was to act out the caricature of a high school football coach in times of crisis.</p><p>“Okay,” he said in a purposeful tone. “How late?”</p><p>Clear eyes, full heart.</p><p>“I don’t know,” she said.</p><p>“What?” Sebastian squawked. “Aren’t girls supposed to, you know, keep track?” Sebastian understood that the female reproductive system was a mysterious universe, but this seemed far-fetched. Then he thought about the teen moms on TV who accidentally had their babies on the toilet.</p><p>“Did you take a pregnancy test?”</p><p>Abigail rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Sebastian.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“Positive.”</p><p>Shitshitshit.</p><p>“How many?”</p><p>“Four,” she said. “No, three.”</p><p>Now, Sebastian wasn’t an ob-gyn or anything, but this seemed an irrationally small number of sticks to pee on before any thinking human could declare themselves in or out of the unwanted-pregnancy woods. In fact, Sebastian couldn’t believe she hadn’t taken at least twenty, and even still Abigail should go for a blood test to be completely positive. Positively positive.</p><p>Shitshitshit.</p><p>“Okay,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “You have to take a bunch more. I’ll take you. We’ll go right now.”</p><p>He almost pounded her back in high-strung jocular cheer.</p><p>“Seb, you’re freaking me out.”</p><p>“No, don’t freak,” he shrieked. Sebastian smiled with all his teeth displayed. “It’ll be fine. You should go to a doctor, a specialist, eliminate any doubt. For peace of mind.”</p><p>“A specialist?” she said. “You sound insane.”</p><p>Sebastian wiped his palms on the tops of his thighs.</p><p>“What about Harvey? Have you talked to him yet?”</p><p>“I can’t go to Harvey,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’d go ballistic and tell my parents.”</p><p>Was she suddenly avoiding him now too?</p><p>“Then we can go to the city, I’ll pay for it.” Sebastian wondered about the going rate for plasma donation and how much a slightly underweight human male could spare before he keeled over and died. Maybe he could donate a toe to science.</p><p>Sebastian cleared his throat. He rubbed his chin. Most of the time they’d been good about condoms. Most of the time.</p><p>“I have an appointment with Planned Parenthood on Thursday,” she said.</p><p>It was Saturday. Thursday was way too many nights away.</p><p>“I can’t just up and leave all of a sudden with no reason with my online classes going on right now,” she explained.</p><p>“I’m sure they’d understand if—”</p><p>“I can’t,” she interrupted. “It’s a big deal. I’m so close to finals. . . I can't just skip my classes because I'm ‘worried.’ ” Abigail rolled her eyes. Sebastian found the rest of the word salad more offensive than “worried,” though he bit his tongue. “It’s not as if I work my own hours it's a fixed schedule.” She peered at him guiltily. “No offense.”</p><p>“You’re taking online classes and could try and get it rescheduled if you asked,” he said. “You’re not exactly option-less. No offense.”</p><p>Shit. Tact. He needed to chill. Sebastian took another deep breath.</p><p>She glared at him.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m still processing. So next week, do you need me to come with you?”</p><p>Sebastian considered the logistics. Maybe he could borrow someone’s car.</p><p>“No,” she said.</p><p>Sebastian thought about Harvey, he felt rage collect in the pit of his stomach in blistering pea-size sores.</p><p>“How late are you?”</p><p>“Three weeks?”</p><p>Jesus.</p><p>Three weeks was an eternity in the life cycle of late periods. Or so it seemed from everything he knew about periods. Which wasn’t much.</p><p>They stood in silence. Sebastian pulled out his cigarettes. Then he imagined pink, teeny-tiny, microscopic baby lungs coughing. He put them away.</p><p>“I wanted to take a morning-after pill,” she said. “But then I didn’t, and . . .”</p><p>Sebastian thought about how careless they’d both been.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me you were worried?”</p><p>Sebastian’s stomach lurched guiltily at the prospect of Liar dealing with this herself.</p><p>“I thought about it.”</p><p>“You waited three weeks to text me.”</p><p>“I figured it was only a little late.”</p><p>“Well, now it’s kinda very incredibly late,” finished Sebastian.</p><p>“I’m worried,” Abigail said, not meeting his eyes.</p><p>Wow. Was she going to cry? As screwed up as the circumstance was, was this when Sebastian would get to see Abigail cry?</p><p>“Well.” Sebastian held her and she let him. It made him feel strong and capable. “We’ll figure it out.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“Just that I’m here for you. I support you. I mean, it is mine, right?”</p><p>She pushed him away. Hard.</p><p>“Are you serious?”</p><p>“Well, Jesus, Abby, it could be Harvey’s!” His anger swelled red-hot and righteous. </p><p>“I haven’t been with Harvey since before you!” she yelled.</p><p>Sebastian smiled before he caught himself.</p><p>Ha. Suck it, Harvey.</p><p>Sebastian studied Abigail then. Shit. He was in way over his head. Still, he couldn’t help focusing on how she was mad at him and how he was stupidly elated that he was capable of making her this mad. It was all quite possibly the most idiotic circumstance to bring a baby into. A blameless, chubby nugget of person caught in the middle of two selfish screw-ups. Sebastian could feel his anxiety thrum in the back of his chest.</p><p>“If you are pregnant,” he said slowly, “what do you want to do?”</p><p>He thought about the A word.</p><p>A-B-O-R-T-I-O-N</p><p>AH BORSH SHUNN</p><p>BORSCHT</p><p>As in the beet-red soup with soft bits in it.</p><p>Borscht. Borscht. Borscht.</p><p>“I don’t know if I could terminate,” she said.</p><p>
  <em>TERMINATE.</em>
</p><p>Sebastian’s mind glommed on to the glimmering red light in the Terminator’s eye at the end of the movie, when the cyborg refused to die.</p><p>“I’m not a child, Seb,” she said. “I’m not some knocked-up fifteen-year-old. I’m twenty. That’s old enough to know better. My mom had me at twenty-one. . . . I can’t.”</p><p>He stared at her. Just drank her in. Purple hair. Small hands. Grey blouse. Black slacks.</p><p>It was a fair response.</p><p>It seemed exactly the sort of thing you’d know about yourself. Except Sebastian didn’t know anything anymore.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I have been writing this story for a while now which is why the updates are frequent, I currently have a few more chapters written before I set up a schedule to continue writing as I'll be starting my online classes real soon.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is just a simple post to show you what I imagine the characters to look like in my head when I write them.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <strong>JUDE &amp; SEBASTIAN</strong>
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  <strong>PENNY, SAM &amp; MARU<br/></strong>
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  <strong>ABIGAIL &amp; HARVEY</strong>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Seeing Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jude believed with her whole heart that there were moments—crucial instances—that defined who someone was going to be. There were clues or signs, and you didn’t want to miss them.</p>
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  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>When Jude was in ninth grade, two events of great portent occurred. One, she read Art Spiegelman’s graphic novel Maus. Two, she figured out that she wouldn’t be popular and that was fine because life was a long con and friends were about quality people not quantity.</p><p>Jude had Raina Frasier’s birthday party to thank for this wisdom. Raina Frasier was a girl from French class who famously woke up at five forty-five every morning to straighten her curly hair only to set it in differently shaped curls. Everybody figured she was well off since her dad was a music journalist for Rolling Stone. And while life was tough for Jude as the daughter of a MILF, having a dad with more Instagram followers than God was also a monumental suck. Raina’s dad cast a long shadow. It didn’t help that his daughter wasn’t cute. Not that she was <em>ugly</em>. She simply had one of those faces where the features were crowded into the middle like a too-big room with tiny furniture.</p><p>Then there was her <em>personality</em>. Raina loved butting in to finish other people’s sentences—even with teachers—and sneezed with a high-pitched “tssst” at least a half-dozen times. To Jude it seemed a bid for the wrong kind of attention. Anyway, Jude hadn’t been properly invited to the get-together. Raina’s mom and Jude’s mom were friendly from an Ethiopian cooking class they’d taken years ago and happened to run into each other at the market.</p><p>“But, Jude, Raina’s going to be so disappointed,” said Tara, adding, “I got you both nail gel kits.” Tara dangled two shiny black bags.</p><p>Jude was more susceptible to bribery then. She rode her bike over and figured there’d at least be snacks and cake and enough people that she could bail inconspicuously.</p><p>When she arrived, six pairs of eyes bored into her from the living room of the pokey ranch house. It smelled as if cat pee had been doused liberally with Pine-Sol, and Jude couldn’t help thinking about how if you could smell anything it was because you were breathing particles of it into your body. Jude encouraged her face not to betray her thoughts as she said hi to Melissa and Christy from school and two girls Raina knew from temple. Huge silver Mylar balloons that spelled out RAINA clung to the ceiling except for the N that hung about midroom and kept sticking to the back of Raina’s hair.</p><p>Over the next two hours, they made personalized pizzas that Raina’s mom baked in the oven and sundaes for dessert. When clear plastic boxes of beads were presented so they could make earrings with fishing wire, Jude discovered her limit for boredom. She excused herself to go to the bathroom, listened carefully for anyone else in the house, and quietly began canvassing the area. Raina’s room featured no less than five black-and-white posters of Audrey Hepburn, and atop her canopied bed lay an orange cat grooming itself. It stopped to glare at Jude before deciding the intruder wasn’t worth the attention. When Jude poked her head into what she figured was Raina’s dad’s office, she hit pay dirt. Mike Frasier, music critic, had every graphic novel <em>ever</em>. Ever. EVER. Stacks. From Spider-Man to Superman to huge volumes of collected editions with shiny hard covers, organized by subject.</p><p>Jude couldn’t believe it. Mere feet from the inane small talk (“isn’t it, like, so awk how some people say caramel and other people say carm-el?”) and bullshit pizza toppings like cubed pickles (why?) were thousands of hours of genuine entertainment. He had everything. From Swamp Thing to V for Vendetta and Persepolis, from We3 to Runaways.</p><p>Mr. Frasier’s room smelled of new books—pulp and varnish. After a whole shelf filled with a cute, pudgy character called Bone, Jude found Maus.</p><p>Jude had wanted to read Maus ever since she learned that it was the first comic to win the Pulitzer Prize, and upon realizing that Mr. Frasier had two copies—a hardcover and a soft—Jude did what any kid would. She stuck the soft down the back of her jeans, slid her sweatshirt over it, pretended she had a stomachache, and hightailed it home. It was among the most shameful moments of her life. Never mind the karma of a total non-Jew stealing a book about the Jewish Holocaust from a Jewish person.</p><p>Except that the book changed her life.</p><p>Jude knew Maus was going to be formative. Not that she was going to become a career criminal, more that she felt destined to make something that made someone else feel how she did when she read it.</p><p>Jude believed with her whole heart that there were moments—crucial instances—that defined who someone was going to be. There were clues or signs, and you didn’t want to miss them.</p><p>It astounded her that a comic book featuring cartoon mice and cats could trick her into learning so much about World War II. Not only learn about it but care about it. She’d known about Auschwitz and how they told all the prisoners that they were going to take showers and instead, cutting off their hair, throwing it in a pile, and sending them to the gas chamber. Even kids. In history last year they’d had a quiz on the dates and significant events of the war, and she’d gotten a near-perfect score. Yet it wasn’t until she read Maus and lived it through the eyes of a father and son mouse, that she saw past the cold facts. That night Jude read Maus twice and cried. She knew then that her life was meant for something else.</p><p>It made what happened at school the following Monday worth it. Raina told everyone in French that Jude had left abruptly because she had diarrhea. After that Jude was cured of ever trying to play nice with people from school again. Jude might have been unpopular, but so was Raina. Unless you were super-popular or second-most super-popular, the difference was negligible. You were a loser. What separated Jude from Raina was that anybody could smell Raina’s desperation. To Jude that was far more pathetic than simply being invisible. Jude would stop trying. Instead she’d spend time preparing for her future, living in books until the exciting part of her life would begin. Things would matter then. In fact, everything would be different.</p><p>Jude was done by eight a.m. with watering her crops and fixing a few of the fences that she came across along the way. Full of energy despite the agonizing start time she was happy with the results, happier than she had been in what seemed like a really long time. Once in town she had found her way into the library, she saw Penny was sat at a table with Sam's younger brother Vincent and Jas—Marnie's niece. Quietly she scanned the shelves for something to read, Jude discovered science fiction shortly after Maus. It became her favorite genre over the years, Jude inhaled the classics—Ready Player One, Dune, and Ender’s Game, though it wasn’t until she was introduced to Messiah, ironically from a guy who was the worst dude in the history of dudes, that she realized sci-fi didn’t have to be so . . . boy.</p><p>Making her way to a table with a few select books, Penny looked up and invited her to sit with them. Jude smiled and grabbed a chair to join them, "I hope I'm not interrupting" she whispered.</p><p>"Of course not, it's good to have you join us" smiled Penny</p><p>"We're writing short stories today! Would you like to read mine miss?" Vincent said while trying to grab all his papers to hand to Jude</p><p>She couldn't help but smile, she had a soft spot for kids.</p><p>As they finished with their lessons, Jude peered at Penny. She was amazed how easily it seemed for her to teach them. She wondered if that was always what she had wanted out of her life. To teach and mold the minds of those willing to learn was no easy feat. Wanting to get to know more about Penny she invited her for lunch at the Saloon and she agreed. Inside, they ran into Maru who readily joined them.</p><p>"I practically ran here, my dad had me dropping something off for Gus when you guys showed up" Maru breathed, fanning herself dramatically with her hand.</p><p>"You're always in a rush you need to slow down," Penny swatted her friend’s leg. "You're a nurse you should know to be a bit more careful."</p><p>"Of course I'm careful! I don't want to be my mom's second child she has to worry about" said Maru.</p><p>“Wow . . . ,” said Penny, shaking her head.</p><p>Penny turned to Jude. "You guys seemed to get along, you and Sebastian I mean.” Both pairs of eyes studied Jude with new interest.</p><p>“I’m being neighborly.” Jude demurred.</p><p>"Well, he's had a rough year." Maru whispered.</p><p>"Why?" asked Jude</p><p>“Well, he didn’t exactly tell me and he’s impossible to spy on most of the time, but . . .” Maru opened Instagram on her phone. “Look . . .” She searched and found the page of a MzAbbyXO and kept scrolling.</p><p>“He has girl trouble . . . ,” said Maru.</p><p>Jude wondered why “girl trouble” meant some dude had dating drama and that “women’s trouble” was about periods.</p><p>“Oooh, I met her,” said Jude remembering her klutzilla move "um briefly."</p><p>She took her soda can and sipped, hoping they wouldn't notice her reddening cheeks.</p><p>MzAbbyXO was hot.</p><p>In fact, Abby’s look was psychological warfare. She was pretty, by scientific and mathematical standards. The kind of attractive that compelled cornballs to come out with flouncy terms like “ravishing” or “exquisite” to describe women. They also almost always referred to them as “creatures” and definitely “females.” Abby was long and thin in the way that certain beautiful people “forgot” to eat or else only nibbled on aesthetically pleasing morsels like Ladurée macarons or sliced kiwi.</p><p>But it was also the way she dressed—incidentally—as if her destroyed denim skirt were placed to protect the modesty of a prudish audience. She was Instagram famous in the way that some girls just are. As if they were designed to indiscriminately detonate insecurities in other women. Basically, she was the perfect stylistic match for Sebastian. No wonder Sebastian bolted the other night. He probably had way better things to do than hang out with them.</p><p>Maru kept swiping, a terrorizing merry-go-round of Abby doing things while looking attractive. They admired Abby stretching in a crop top to where the dagger tattoos on her rib cage showed.</p><p>“Sebastian’s in literally every fifth picture from here. . . .” She continued scrolling up. “All the way to here.”</p><p>“That’s years,” said Penny.</p><p>“He was in this perfect relationship and now he’s not, and honestly, I’ve been talking to Dr. Harvey about it and he thinks he’s depressed.” Maru mumbled</p><p>“Dr. Harvey is Maru's boss,” said Penny.</p><p>Isn't that a bit weird?</p><p>Jude thought to herself.</p><p>"Anyway he’s very vulnerable right now so if he comes off a bit stand off-ish, that's why" Maru finished</p><p>They changed the subject and finished eating quickly after. Penny asked her to stay behind a few minutes so she could talk to her about something.</p><p>As Maru thanked them for letting her join them she waved goodbye and went on her way.</p><p>"She doesn't know" said Penny</p><p>"Pardon?"</p><p>"Doctor Harvey played a part in the disintegration of Sebastian's relationship with Abigail," Penny whisper-yelled. "But only a few people actually know so please keep that to yourself okay?"</p><p>Jude nodded at Penny</p><p>Penny reached over and tucked a tangled strand of Jude’s hair behind her ear and patted her cheek.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>Sebastian woke with a start. It was Sunday—more than a week later—and his problems remained as they were. He'd bailed on Sam Friday morning hoping by some miracle he would feel better sitting in his room alone with his thoughts, which obviously turned out not great. He was still broken up with Liar. He was still in love with Liar. Liar was pregnant. It was one p.m. It was his day off and he’d fallen asleep only two hours ago. Blargh.</p><p>Last night, after countless texts and missed calls, Liar finally deigned to come by his house when no one was around. Under Sebastian’s watchful eye she chugged gallons of water and walked back and forth to the bathroom to pee on six more sticks. It was both intimate and also very much not.</p><p>Period lateness check: four weeks and counting.</p><p>“Thanks a lot for buying the cheap ones,” Abigail called out from the toilet. She had the bathroom door cracked open, and though they’d once been that couple where one person peed while the other showered, Sebastian looked away. He heard the flush.</p><p>“I get pee all over my hands with those things,” she said. Sebastian wondered how many pregnancy tests she’d taken over the years but knew better than to ask. It had taken days of badgering to get her to come over. She’d skipped the Planned Parenthood appointment and had so far failed to make a new one.</p><p>She washed her hands, lining up the results on the side of the sink.</p><p>“See, the good ones spell out ‘pregnant’ or ‘not pregnant,” she said. “They’re digital or something.”</p><p>Sebastian hadn’t known there was such a thing as a good one when it came to pregnancy tests. He’d sprung for the two-for-three deal. Sebastian reasoned six meant better odds so they’d know for sure, for sure.</p><p>They waited and watched. It was surprisingly hard to tell. Of the six, five were positive with faint plus signs. The last was a dud. The little white window remained completely blank. No minus sign. Nothing.</p><p>“So, you’re pregnant,” he said.</p><p>“I guess,” she responded.</p><p>“How do you feel?” he asked.</p><p>“Pissed,” she said.</p><p>He nodded glumly.</p><p>“Like, how dumb is this?”</p><p>She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and groaned.</p><p>“You really want to know how I feel?” she said after a while. “I want to break shit.”</p><p>“Come with me,” he said. Sebastian went behind his desk, grabbed his backpack from under a pile of clothing, then led her through the hall and out the screen door.</p><p>It was an airless night.</p><p>Sebastian unzipped his bag and handed Abigail his laptop.</p><p>She took it and looked at him quizzically.</p><p>“You said you wanted to break shit.”</p><p>He nodded at the gravelly ground.</p><p>“It’s backed up,” he said. “And broken. Put it out of its . . .”</p><p>Before Sebastian could say “misery,” Abigail threw it on the ground by their feet.</p><p>Nothing happened. It lay there heavy and doltish.</p><p>She picked it back up, opened it, and this time pitched it farther.</p><p>“Fuuuuuuuck,” she yelled into the night.</p><p>It skittered yards away.</p><p>They walked over.</p><p>“You have a go,” she said, bending down to hand it to him.</p><p>Sebastian held the laptop above his head with both hands and threw it onto the ground, where it finally cracked. They chucked it and chucked it—working up a sweat—until the screen was totaled and the two halves came apart at the hinge. Abigail took a photo of it and posted it on Instagram, tagging him.</p><p>After, without saying anything, they tossed the computer’s mangled carcass into a trash bag, threw in the pregnancy tests, and swung the bag into the dumpster.</p><p>“Did you get a new one?” she asked him, grabbing her purse.</p><p>Sebastian shook his head and yawned. He’d have to get a second job to pay child support anyway. </p><p>“Come by tomorrow,” she said, pulling him in for a hug. Her expression was unreadable.</p><p>At two thirty the next afternoon Sebastian made his way to Abigail's house, she'd texted him letting him know she was alone so he didn't have to worry about anyone seeing him. Knocking loudly once there, looking around to make sure no one was around.</p><p>She met him at the door, no makeup, hair up in a towel, barefoot in a pink-and-blue floral housedress. It was a punch in the gut. It was his private Abigail. His favorite Abigail. The Abigail she was when it was just the two of them.</p><p>“You should’ve texted me,” she remarked irritably. She made him wait by the door, closing it partway so he couldn’t see in, and reappeared with a silver MacBook Air and a tangled power cord.</p><p>“Here,” she said, handing it over. The slender device struck Sebastian as strangely vulnerable. More expensive and aerodynamic than any computer he’d ever owned. Sebastian wondered if there was anything on it that he wasn’t supposed to see. Or better yet, something she’d deliberately left him to find. “It’s wiped” she said.</p><p>This wasn’t what he’d expected. Not that he’d thought they’d leap back into bed if he came over, but this felt too close to charity. The worst part was that he wasn’t in a position to refuse it.</p><p>“It’ll only be for a few weeks,” he mumbled.</p><p>“I upgraded,” she said. “Keep it as long as you want.”</p><p>That was Abigail’s other secret side. While she was all too happy to cadge free drinks off his dirtbag friends and split cheap slices of pizza, most of the time it was an act. Abigail’s lifestyle was heavily subsidized by her parents. The first time he’d spent the night and took a shower at her house, Sebastian spotted the price sticker left on her shampoo—$38. He’d put it back and used soap on his head.</p><p>Keeping up while they were dating was out of the question, and Sebastian had no idea what was expected from him as the father of her child. Not only was there nowhere to put a crib in his room, but he didn’t even have a car. And the prospect of walking miles just to get to the city with a Babybjörn strapped to his chest made his testicles want to retreat into his body.</p><p>After he left Abigail’s he walked home calling an old friend from the city about a barback gig would have been easy enough, but Sebastian didn’t want to explain his absence or his sudden need for cash.</p><p>Sweat slid down the back of Sebastian’s denim-clad legs. He would’ve loved to wear basketball shorts and flip-flops, resembling every carefree numbskull roaming the streets with status headphones, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Shrimping man-toes were an insult to nature</p><p>Sebastian was tired. Abigail’s laptop hit the base of his spine with every footfall.</p><p>The computer probably cost more than his life. Which made a kind of sense since it was decisively more capable than he’d ever been. The most money he’d ever made was eleven dollars an hour. He tried to enjoy the afternoon air and the meditative qualities of walking and failed.</p><p>Instead he considered the cost of diapers.</p><p>One time Liar sent him to the store to buy tampons and he was stunned by how expensive they were. Diapers had to cost about the same. Except that a period was a week a month, so you could space them out, but a baby needed diapers pretty much constantly for years.</p><p>Christ, he had to relax. Sebastian let his mind drift and panned out to orient himself on Planet Earth and reassure his brain that things were going to be fine.</p><p>His brain had other ideas.</p><p>Okay, so if Abigail was pregnant, it could also mean . . .</p><p>SHE COULD HAVE HERPES. WHICH MEANS THAT EVEN IF SHE’S NOT PREGNANT SEBASTIAN COULD STILL HAVE HERPES BECAUSE HARVEY <em>DEFINITELY</em> HAD HERPES.</p><p>Thanks, brain.</p><p>He walked past the old community center. Wondering what in the hell he would tell his mom. Robin was a piece of work. She had what in the old days they’d called moxie. Sebastian inherited his smart mouth from his father, and like a snake eating its own tail, it only served to drive her crazy. She was an understanding woman for the most part but his mother’s response to Sebastian’s happy addition would be less so. The accusations would then turn to his father, which led right back to her dissatisfaction with her son. The rejection stung on all counts. Sebastian was a carbon copy of his father. Though despite the evolutionary wisdom that babies resemble their dads so they’d stick around, his father was immune to the charms of his tiny doppelgänger. As much as it broke his heart, Sebastian knew his old man was a loser. Granted, he was handsome, tall, dark, with a gleam of wicked about the eyes but that’s where he wanted the similarities to end.</p><p>Thinking about his parents upset him, and when he blinked he felt the horizon lurch abruptly. He took a deep breath. He should have eaten something before leaving. Or else he should have gotten some sleep instead of obsessing about whether or not he and Abigail should get married. Marriage was useless anyway. Nothing more than a bogus contract to ensure all parties wound up disappointed. At least that had been the case for his mother the first time around, why would it be any different for him?</p><p>Sebastian pulled at his T-shirt. Good Lord, it was hot. Sebastian’s head swam. He didn’t want to become a washout like his dad. This was a terrible idea. Whatever swirl of ingredients that made both his parents such devout drinkers hadn’t skipped a generation and the itch to drink had come back full force with the news of the possible baby.</p><p>He peered down the road. . . Sebastian’s vision wobbled violently and his knees hitched beneath him. He had passed out once, in fifth-grade gym. He’d hung slack in his teachers arms and could hear her talking about his bird bones though he couldn’t lift his head. It was humiliating.</p><p>His arms felt leaden at his elbows, and when he formed fists to prove to himself that he could, the effort unnerved him. His hearing became muffled, sounds dropping out completely before returning. Sebastian examined his surroundings unsteadily. He didn't need anyone seeing him like this. His heart pounded. A sharp pain pierced through his chest as his breath caught in his throat. He pictured himself as a voodoo doll being pierced by a large spike. He had to sit down.</p><p>Can twenty-three-year-olds have heart attacks?</p><p>Sure.</p><p>Babies have heart attacks.</p><p>Babies.</p><p>Could his unborn baby have a congenital heart condition? Yes. Most definitely.</p><p>Don’t call it an “it,” he reminded himself.</p><p>The pain in his chest was unbearable. He had to call someone. But who?The list of who he absolutely <em>couldn’t</em> call was impressive—Abigail, his mom, Maru, everyone else in the world.</p><p>Sebastian peeled off from the ground, staggered to the nearest patch of grass, and collapsed.</p><p>He went to pull out his phone to call 911, but his jeans—<em>his stupid hipster jeans</em>—were too tight. He saw stars and then he died.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Saints</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The confessions wouldn’t stop. He wanted to show his gratitude for the ride and the snack and the not making him feel like a headcase when it was clear that he was. Except at no point did his vocal cords just step in line and say thank you.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter consists mostly of back and forth dialogue so I apologize if it seems short.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>When it came to perspiration, Jude had a problem. Not that she stank of BO or anything. It’s that from March to around September she was invariably damp. She'd spent the better part of the day down in the mines collecting resources she'd find some use for and others she could sell for a good price. She could feel the pool of moisture collecting in each underboob, and her sweat mustache beaded up no matter how urgently she wiped it away.</p><p>It didn’t help that she was dining al fresco in 100-degree heat, Jude tried scanning the area looking for good shady patches near the lake to make being outside bearable but the blazing heat was hard to be comfortable in. She packed some food she made herself from a recipe she got from watching The Queen of Sauce a couple of days ago and a six-dollar blended “horchatalatta” packet she'd brought from the city. The snack had been a bust, but the scenery was stellar.</p><p>As she was packing up her things she saw a scrawny kid coming up the hill and almost ate it. Jude reached for her phone but was too slow on the uptake. She could never grab it in time for good snaps. Sweat ran down her back and seeped into her underwear elastic. The kid staggered over to a patch of grass and planted himself under a tree. He was gulping for air, a marooned fish on dry land, and his face was blinding white. Maybe it was heroin. Jude rubbed the inside of her elbow where she thought her heroin vein would be and then poked her forearm, leaving red circles. She should have worn sunblock. She watched the boy, slumped against the trunk, pull up his black T-shirt sleeves to fashion a sort of tank top. Man, he was lean enough to be a junkie, and his arms were covered in tattoos.</p><p>The kid shoved back his hair, revealing his face. Except it wasn’t a kid. It was Sam's friend. Sebastian. Hot Sebastian. Hot Sebastian who was possibly OD’ing on opioids right in front of her. She had to do something! Oh God, she was in no state for altruism. Jude quickly pulled her hair into a bun and grabbed a mint from her go bag.</p><p>Priorities, Jude. Save the man from dying. Nobody cares about your breath.</p><p>She glanced back at Sebastian to see if he had stirred. He was probably in the throes of brain death now, drawing his final breaths while she was faffing.</p><p>What do I do? What do I do?</p><p> How to save a dying man:</p><p>1. Call the Ferngill Republic Hammer. What? How was her only readily available resource an outdated local ad for a personal injury attorney?</p><p>2. Ignore him. Christ, he’s not your friend! Ugh. But he was Sam’s. And Jude liked Sam even if he talked way too much.</p><p>3. Go see if he’s dead already.</p><p>Jude ran across to his lifeless body and peered into his face.</p><p>She hoped she wouldn’t drip sweat on him.</p><p>He certainly seemed dead.</p><p>And, for the record, the tattoo on his bicep wasn’t a chess piece. It was the head of a stallion with its eyes covered in a piece of fabric. What did it mean?</p><p>Focus, Jude. Shit.</p><p>“Sebastian?” She kicked his heel gently. They both still had on the same shoes.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>It was a face he knew and couldn’t place. He stared and tried to focus.</p><p>Friend or foe? Friend or foe? Do I owe you money? Are you friends with Abigail? Please don’t be friends with Abigail.</p><p>Sebastian closed his eyes again, embarrassed. Her voice was gentle. It was a nice voice.</p><p>“Sebastian, are you alive? It’s Jude.” She sounded far away.</p><p>Sebastian felt another kick on his foot, and he groaned.</p><p>“I’m Sam’s friend,” said the shiny face with the bright red lips.</p><p>“Who’s Sam?” he croaked.</p><p>“Your friend.”</p><p>“Best-friend,” he corrected.</p><p>“Are you dying?”</p><p>He nodded and tried to slide his phone out of his pocket without passing out.</p><p>“Is Sam coming?” He didn’t want Sam to see him like this. He hated the thought of anyone seeing him like this.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Thank God.</p><p>A Biggie lyric teased the corners of his brain.</p><p>Something about heartbeats and Sasquatch feet.</p><p>“Sebastian, WHAT’S happening? YOU look HORRIBLE.”</p><p>His hearing kept coming and going.</p><p>His heart was fit to burst.</p><p>Thudthudthud.</p><p>I’m dying, dead.</p><p>Deaddeaddead.</p><p>“I think I’m having a heart attack.” He closed his eyes.</p><p>“Shit, shit, shit,” she said. “Shit.”</p><p>And then.</p><p>“Hello? 911?”</p><p>Sebastian thought it was funny how everybody greeted the three-digit number they’d called. As if they had to ask.</p><p>“My friend’s sick. I don’t know. Yeah, I’m here with him.”</p><p>Sebastian felt a wave of nausea. He hoped he wouldn’t have to puke in front of her.</p><p>“Sebastian . . . um, Twenty-”</p><p>"three,"  he told her.</p><p>"Twenty-three." she said.</p><p>Sebastian nodded.</p><p>“No,” she said. “I don’t know. At least I don’t think so . . .”</p><p>He felt her cold hand on his arm. He opened his eyes.</p><p>“Sebastian, are you on drugs?”</p><p>
  <em>I wish.</em>
</p><p>He shook his head.</p><p>“No, no drugs. Um . . . shortness of breath, cold sweats . . .”</p><p>“Stabbing pain in my chest,” he said.</p><p>“Stabbing pain in his chest,” she repeated.</p><p>“Like a knitting needle,” he said.</p><p>“Like a knitting needle,” she repeated.</p><p>“Mm-hmm,” he heard her say. Followed by, “Yeah, I guess the knitting needle is going through his chest.”</p><p>Exactly.</p><p>Sebastian nodded again.</p><p>“Okay, thank you. Bye.”</p><p>Sebastian thought about how people on TV never said good-bye. And then he wondered why people only thought about the dumbest things as they lay dying.</p><p>Sebastian felt Jude sit down next to him.</p><p>“Sebastian, wake up.”</p><p>“I am up,” he whispered.</p><p>She was staring at him intently.</p><p>“Are you sure you’re not on drugs?”</p><p>He glared at her before realizing—inappropriately—that she was kind of cute when she made eye contact. Cute enough that he was bummed out that she was watching him die.</p><p>“Positive,” he said.</p><p>She wiped his wet brow with her T-shirt sleeve, which was already damp. He saw a flash of bra and glanced away.</p><p>“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know why I did that. I’m supposed to keep talking to you until they get here.”</p><p>The cogs in his mind picked up steam.</p><p>“Wait, shit. Did you call an ambulance?”</p><p>She nodded. “Knitting needle?” she reminded him. As if 100 percent of knitting-needle-related incidents (imagined and otherwise) justified an emergency vehicle.</p><p>“Call them back!” he ordered. His heart hammered harder. “Call them back!” he repeated. “I can’t afford an ambulance.”</p><p>She stared at him for a beat, grabbed her phone, and marched away. A thousand years later, she returned.</p><p>“I called them.” She crouched in front of him with her hands on his shoulders. “Though yours is an incorrect response.”</p><p>Despite his stupor, Sebastian bristled at her word choice. “Incorrect”? Was it “incorrect” to be broke?</p><p>“Wait, can you do this?” She stuck her tongue straight out.</p><p>He stuck his tongue out.</p><p>“What’s the thing with the tongue and heart attacks?” she yelled impatiently, as if he were deliberately keeping diagnostic information from her. “Shit, I think that’s for a stroke.” She pulled out her phone and searched helplessly.</p><p>He drew his tongue back into his mouth.</p><p>“Okay,” she said, breathing deep. “Don’t die, okay?”</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>“Promise me,” she said.</p><p>He nodded again.</p><p>“You know what? Try to slow your breathing . . . one Mississippi . . . two Mississippi . . . Say it in your head.”</p><p>He focused on breathing.</p><p>“Did you eat today?”</p><p>He shook his head.</p><p>A plastic drink container was thrust into his face. The straw smelled cinnamony and was covered in red lipstick.</p><p>“It’s not very good sorry,” she told him.</p><p>He took a sip.</p><p>Horchata. Cold. Sweet. And she was right—this one was kind of gross.</p><p>"Did you drink a lot of coffee today?”</p><p>He nodded. Same as every day.</p><p>“Do you have radiating pain?”</p><p>He shook his head. She read off her phone.</p><p>“What about numbness?”</p><p>He shook his head.</p><p>“Sebastian?”</p><p>Sebastian nodded. He was Sebastian, it was true.</p><p>“We’re going to take a walk now.”</p><p>He shook his head.</p><p>He felt her grab his arm and sling it over her shoulders. She was soaking wet, and where his sweaty bare arm met her neck it was slippery. He put weight on his legs so he, a grown man, wouldn’t have to be carried by some lady again.</p><p>“I’m going to take you somewhere so someone can examine you, okay? Walk with me. Please?”</p><p>“Okay,” he said.</p><p>Fifteen minutes later, they were in her car on the road to the city.</p><p>The AC was blasting and Sebastian was soaked though otherwise calm. He wanted badly to go home and take a nap</p><p>Jude was silent. Even in his peripheral vision, she seemed agitated. Her hands were clutching the steering wheel so tight her knuckles were white. He couldn’t believe that Sam’s otherwise mute (compared to him), new friend had saved his life. He wondered if he’d have to get her something for her efforts.</p><p>“We'll be there soon,” she said, staring straight ahead.</p><p>Sebastian didn’t want to explain to her that he couldn’t afford ambulances, hospitals, or the cheaper emergency clinics in crappy strip malls.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he said.</p><p>“No you’re not.”</p><p>“I don’t have health insurance,” he admitted.</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“I swear to God I’m fine now,” he said after a moment. “I don’t know what that was. Probably heat stroke.”</p><p>“Have you had heat stroke before?”</p><p>He shook his head.</p><p>“Did you know that if you’ve had heat stroke once, your brain remembers the circuitry so it’s easier for you to get heat stroke again? Maybe way easier than before?”</p><p>He shook his head and recalled Jude’s earlier jokes about apps making apps. She was apparently a huge nerd.</p><p>“So . . . ,” she said. Jude’s dark eyes were shiny, and pink bloomed on her cheeks. “Wait, did you have a panic attack?”</p><p>“What? No. I don’t have panic attacks. Never in my life.” Jesus, give a girl WebMD and she starts thinking she’s a physician. </p><p>“You had a goddamned panic attack,” she said, looking away from him again. “The sweatiness, the heart-attack feeling. Oh my God!” She slapped the bottom of the steering wheel with her left hand. “It’s obvious. And you didn’t eat today. Caffeine. So dumb!”</p><p>“Okay, hold on.” He threw his hands up. “Why are you so angry?” Sebastian reached out to touch the back of the hand closest to him, but she jerked away, exhaling noisily.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said, shoulders slumping. “It’s adrenaline. Rage is my usual fear response.”</p><p>“That,” he said, “is a nifty quality.”</p><p>Nifty?</p><p>“I know,” said Jude. “Everybody just loves it. Ugh.” She groaned, rubbing her face and smearing lipstick across her chin.</p><p>He nodded. He didn’t know what to do about the lipstick. Maybe he’d get away with not saying anything until he got home.</p><p>Jude pulled over to the side of the road and handed him a bottle of water. He took it gratefully.</p><p>Then she grabbed her black and gray camouflage backpack from the backseat, plopped it onto her lap, and rummaged through it. She handed him a small bag of raw cashews from a blue zippered bag filled with other small, compact snacks.</p><p>“Uh, sometimes it’s triggered by caffeine or low blood sugar with me,” Jude said, explaining the snack.</p><p>Okay, he had to tell her.</p><p>“You’ve got lipstick everywhere,” he said, pointing toward her chin.</p><p>She angled the rearview and sighed again.</p><p>In another compartment of her bag, this time from a black zipper bag, she pulled out a small packet of moistened wipes. A green, plastic cable tie sprang out of it and onto her lap.</p><p>“EDC,” she said, quietly putting it back.</p><p>“EDC?”</p><p>“Everyday carry,” she said. “Stuff I have on me at all times. Go bags, for emergencies.”</p><p>“As in, an apocalypse go bag, go bag?”</p><p>“Correct,” she said.</p><p>There was that incorrect, correct thing again.</p><p>“But I have this on me every day. Usually, the EDC community are guys with concealed firearms and flashlights, which I think is dumb since we have phones with a flashlight function. . . .” Jude trailed off. Sebastian had wondered why chicks had such big bags. He figured it was their makeup, not soft cases filled with doomsday rations and zip ties of varying length.</p><p>“Snacks are important,” he said. “And you can never have enough plastic cables.”</p><p>“Are you making fun of me?” she asked.</p><p>“No.” He shook his head vehemently and took another handful of cashews. “Not at all. I respect the shit out of it. Your EDC is saving my ass.”</p><p>She had a small scar above her left eyebrow and he wanted to ask about it. Maybe she’d had some bizarre things go down in her life. It would explain her whole style.</p><p>“Did everything sound all underwater?” she asked after a second. Her lips were wiped clean, and Sebastian noticed they looked better without all that gunk on them.</p><p>“Underwater?”</p><p>“When you were passing out.”</p><p>“Yeah, muffled.”</p><p>“Yeah, I get that.”</p><p>“My girlfriend’s pregnant,” he said suddenly, startling himself.</p><p>Jude tilted her head.</p><p>“Well, she’s my ex.”</p><p>“Whoa,” she breathed.</p><p>“Yeah. I still love her though.”</p><p>“Ugh.”</p><p>“She cheated on me.”</p><p>The confessions wouldn’t stop. He wanted to show his gratitude for the ride and the snack and the not making him feel like a headcase when it was clear that he was. Except at no point did his vocal cords just step in line and say thank you.</p><p>“Wow,” she said</p><p>Jude’s fingers inched toward his. Sebastian thought for a fleeting moment that she would hold his hand, but instead she went for a couple cashews and was extra careful to avoid touching him.</p><p>“The first one is the worst. By a lot,” she said, crunching. Sebastian wasn’t sure if she was talking about panic attacks or pregnant ex-girlfriends. Not that it mattered.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>On the drive back Jude snuck glances at Sebastian. His eyes were closed. Jude couldn’t believe Sebastian had told her about his girlfriend, MzAbbyXO. And that MzAbbyXO was pregnant! Maru would lose it when she found out. Jude couldn't help but wonder what Dr. Harvey had to say about it.</p><p>Sebastian’s slight chest rose and fell. She wondered for a second if she could lift him if she needed to.</p><p>“Take me to my house."</p><p>“Please,” he said then, catching himself.</p><p>Jude fought the urge to check his temperature. Maybe this was more than a panic attack. He was so vulnerable. She knew she should be keeping her eyes on the road, but the way his Adam’s apple bobbed was mesmerizing. It was as if something were struggling to get out. She just wanted to reach over and stroke it. Just once. Or lick it. God, what was wrong with her?</p><p>“Are you sure?” she said</p><p>“There’s no one at home,” he explained, his eyes still closed. Jude was enjoying that she could survey him with unsupervised access.</p><p>“What if you get another attack?”</p><p>“I’ll figure it out,” he said.</p><p>Sebastian opened his eyes. Jude froze momentarily.</p><p>“Why don’t you want to be a documentarian anymore?” she asked abruptly.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>Jude had been dying to ask since that first day they hung out and Sam mentioned it. She wanted to know what made him quit movies. Curiosity fizzed in her head, but she restrained herself. Jude knew she had a habit of jumping all over the place in conversations without warning. Her mom called it “speaking Jude.” Nobody but Jude spoke it fluently.</p><p>It’s just that Jude didn’t know a lot of documentaries beyond the one about the tightrope walker guy and the sushi guy and the one about Sea World, and she certainly didn’t personally know any documentarians. She was willing to bet Sebastian’s would be good. Honestly, between the panic attack and the pregnant ex-girlfriend, if Sebastian were making a movie out of his own life, Jude would watch the hell out of it.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>When they pulled up in front of his house Sebastian felt as if he’d left weeks ago. He couldn’t wait to strip off his clothes and collapse into bed.</p><p>“Thanks,” Sebastian said, unbuckling his seat belt. He considered leaning over and hugging her. Not that he was a hugger or anything. But when he turned to say good-bye, she eyed him warily, as if she’d burst into flames if he did.</p><p>"You're sure no one's home?" Her brows were furrowed and the scar was white again, as if it were pissed at him.</p><p>“Yup,” he said.</p><p>“Want me to get Sam to bring you anything?”</p><p>“That’s okay,” he said, attempting a smile. “Actually, do you mind not telling him that we bumped into each other?”</p><p>Jude cocked her head. “You want me not to tell him about seeing you or everything that followed?”</p><p>“Both,” he asserted. “I don’t want him to worry.” The last thing he needed was Sam knowing that his life was turning into a stereotypical redneck mess.</p><p>“Um,” she said, frowning slightly. “Sure.” Jude gave him her “incorrect response” look again.</p><p>“I just really need to get some rest."</p><p>She nodded.</p><p>“Thanks again,” he said, and opened the car door. “For everything.” He got out and steadied himself.</p><p>“Wait!” Sebastian heard the pop of a door. Jude waved her phone at him from the passenger side.</p><p>“What’s your number?” she asked. Her face was bright red. “So you have mine. For emergencies.”</p><p>He told it to her.</p><p>His phone buzzed in his pocket.</p><p>“Got it,” he said.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Jude reached over and slammed the door. “Text me when you feel better?”</p><p>“Yes, Mom, I’ll text you when I feel better."</p><p>She scowled then, which made him smile.</p><p>“Sorry. I promise I will. I’ll get some food and go straight to bed. And I will call you because you are now my official emergency contact.” Sebastian turned to go.</p><p>“Wait!” shouted Jude again through the window. He turned around.</p><p>“Isn’t the whole concept of an emergency contact that you’re too dead to call them?”</p><p>Sebastian laughed. She had a point.</p><p>“Don’t forget!” she called out before driving away. He pulled out his phone.</p><p>The text read:</p><p>This is jude</p><p>He smiled, trudged down the stairs, and immediately fell asleep in his clothes for the next ten hours.</p><p>When Sebastian woke up he had a pounding headache. He stuck his head under the bathroom faucet and chugged until he thought he was going to be sick. He checked his phone. Almost two a.m.</p><p>No calls from Abigail. Or texts. In fact, the last thing he got was “This is jude.”</p><p>Crap. Jude. Jude who he’d promised to hit up ten hours ago. He felt awful.</p><p>Still, it was way too late to text someone. Or was it? From what little he knew of her, she seemed the type to wait up. He was embarrassed about his panic experience—he remained reluctant to label it a full-on attack—but it was way worse to make her worry.</p><p>Ugh. Why was he so worthless?</p><p>He saved her number as “Jude Emergency” and texted her two words:</p><p>Feeling better</p><p>Jude’s text bubble popped up immediately with the little ellipses. Then it disappeared. Then it popped up again. Only to be deleted again. </p><p>Finally, she wrote back:</p><p>ok</p><p>Sebastian wondered if she was angry with him.</p><p>He texted her again:</p><p>I’m sorry. Fell asleep</p><p>She texted:</p><p>Sleep’s the best. HUGE FAN.</p><p>Hard to do it when your</p><p>emergency contact’s dead so . . .</p><p>Shit. She was pissed. Still, he smiled. Was he her emergency contact too? Maybe nobody knew how emergency contacts worked.</p><p>Sry</p><p>Srsly</p><p>TY!</p><p>I’m a dick</p><p>ugh</p><p>Good night</p><p>He sent her the frowning emoji. The extremely contrite one with no eyebrows.</p><p>It wasn’t his style, but the moment required it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Texting 1, 2, 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jude placed her phone facedown on her bed and allowed herself a tiny swoon.</p><p>Sebastian enjoyed texting Jude. It helped that she didn’t seem to tire of him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fairly short chapter this time I'm sorry.<br/>I'll make up for it in the next one!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>Jude was in the shower when Sebastian texted again.</p><p>GOOD MORNING</p><p>Just like that.</p><p>All caps. No exclamation.</p><p>It sounded so sunny, so smiley. In fact, the text bubble seemed happy to see her. So much so that she went back to the conversation to make sure it was actually Sebastian from yesterday. She’d saved his number as “Bash” The jerk. She couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep before he’d texted her. It was irresponsible and inconsiderate. She didn’t want to sound fussy and overbearing, but a text wasn’t asking too much.</p><p>As if the text bubble could read her mind, it spoke again.</p><p>IT’S UR EMERGENCY CONTACT</p><p>I REALLY AM SRY S2G</p><p>And then:</p><p>I’LL STOP YELLING NOW</p><p>FML</p><p>I feel HORRIBLE</p><p>Hope u didn’t lose 2 much sleep bc of me</p><p>I won’t ask u 2 forgive me but hope u will</p><p>Wow.</p><p>It was fascinating. The dispatch made her heart do a crazy dance. Not even a cute dance. More an erratic flailing, like those windsock things you see at car dealerships. She thought about his hot armpit again. And his cowlick. And the tattoos she didn’t entirely understand. It usually irked her when people wrote “u” instead of “you” and “2” instead of “to”—especially “too”—but telling people things like that was probably why she only got texts from her mom.</p><p>Jude attempted to respond, hey. Her hands were covered in lotion and her stupid phone wouldn’t register her fingers as humanoid and that’s when Sebastian texted again . . .</p><p>Did I wake u?</p><p>And then:</p><p>I hope I didn’t wake u</p><p>O NO DID ME NOT WANTING</p><p>2 WAKE U RN WAKE U RN?!!</p><p>She closed her eyes and held her phone to her heart like a big dumb girl in a movie.</p><p>Then she wiped her hands on her towel and wrote back.</p><p>Please stop yelling</p><p>He texted back:</p><p>((hi)) &lt;- denoting indoor voice of normal vol</p><p>Jude smiled. She typed:</p><p>I hope you feel better</p><p>And then:</p><p>You didn’t wake me</p><p>Jude padded quietly back into her room and got dressed. Her phone lit up again.</p><p>Did you get any sleep?</p><p>I can’t believe I did that to you</p><p>Jude smiled. Then she bit her lower lip. She noticed him noticing the “to/you” thing. Shit. He was so great. Jude thought of pregnant Abby. And then about Sam whom she'd grown relatively close to that he seemed more like a brother now. Jude knew Sam would bug if he discovered Sebastian was in this much trouble, but these weren’t her secrets to tell.</p><p>Jude texted him:</p><p>Yes</p><p>Have a good day</p><p>You too he'd responded</p><p>Jude placed her phone facedown on her bed and allowed herself a tiny swoon. Besides. As far as Jude and Sebastian were concerned, there was nothing to tell. Nothing happened. Just because Sam was fast and loose with his personal life didn’t mean the same setup worked for everyone. Some people’s coping mechanisms were all about festering and secrecy and ruminating until you grew yourself a nice little tumor in your heart with a side of panic attack. <em>Different strokes.</em></p><hr/><p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>Sebastian wasn’t stupid—It’s not that he believed by taking a single community college course on documentaries he was going to stumble ass-backward into stardom. It’s just that he’d tried on several occasions to make a movie and hadn’t succeeded. The way he saw it, taking a class was about placing an expensive bet on yourself. You couldn’t afford to blow the deadline. Besides no one else really knew he had decided to take a course except Abigail, he'd told her about it back when they'd run into each other at that drugstore over a month ago.</p><p>The film department was housed in a squat brown building from the seventies, complete with avocado-green carpet from the era. It was illogical to Sebastian that despite the entire course being conducted online, he still had to drag his meat suit to the campus to pick up his ID in Zuzu city. The blue and white piece of plastic featured a blurry picture of his face, as though he’d run across the frame. The unimpressed sixty-year-old dude with dandruff in his eyebrows made it clear that there would be no reshoots. Whatever. He tried not to dwell on the school’s resemblance to a prison and the sort of life that dictated a need for a vending machine in the hall filled with plastic-wrapped sandwiches and returned home on his motorcycle.</p><p>When Sebastian was younger he took pictures constantly. Unlike programming (that had come rather easily to him), photography kept you on your toes. It was chaotic and human—utterly unpredictable. To capture an unposed face you had to wait for it. It was spear fishing. You had to move between the competing rhythms of the world and strike. When his street urchin pals were stealing Twix and fat-tip markers from dollar stores, Sebastian would palm a couple of those old-school cardboard disposable cameras. He’d collect shoe boxes of them, pictures of his friends playing Edward Forty Hands or Amy Winehands (the super-sophisticated game where you’d duct tape bottles of malt liquor or wine coolers onto your palms). Or he’d capture skate tricks, backyard shows, or everyone just hanging out across town. It cost ten bucks to develop, so he stockpiled the used-up cameras. When he turned fifteen he got a job at a one-hour photo expressly to process them. Sebastian got to be a pretty good lab technician, though the job was unspeakably depressing.</p><p>Only two types of people developed photos in those days, broke art kids and old weirdos. There was this fat fifty-something dude, Bertie, who’d take pictures of himself and his Weimaraner. He was naked, and the dog wore waistcoats and hats, and they were photographed doing unseemly things: sitting at the dinner table with a full Thanksgiving spread, or slow dancing, the dog upright and impossibly long on its hindquarters. They recalled William Wegman’s portraits except with human full-frontal, and though Sebastian didn’t know exactly what was going on, he called the ASPCA anonymously and quit a week later. It was <em>bleak</em>.</p><p>Sebastian was ready to move on to moving pictures anyway. It was on to janky VHS camcorders from the Goodwill after that.</p><p>People were odd. Sebastian loved and loathed that about them. Fiction was fine, but real life was the true freak show.</p><p>Sebastian’s syllabus was spare and he tried not to feel ripped off about it. Three months to complete a project, a twenty-two-minute short that would comprise most of his grade. He wouldn’t get anywhere near the Blackmagic Cinema cameras, since they required a five-thousand-dollar credit card deposit, but he was able to sign out an old Canon 5D Mark III with all the requisite lenses, some lavalier mics, and a better shotgun microphone than he’d normally get his hands on, as well as a tripod. He also grabbed a tiny stabilizer rig for his phone in case he wanted something more run-and-gun. Finding a subject felt like a hunger that would never be satisfied. Hanging out he’d glanced at Sam, narrowed his eyes, and wondered if there was something else there.</p><p>“In a world . . . where a guy who was forever number two, the perfect wingman, the eldest born of two sons, the dude who didn’t get the girl and only got her <em>slightly</em> less attractive friend finally . . .”</p><p>“Quit it, asshole.” Sam flicked a piece of celery at him. Sebastian was halfway through prepping for lunch.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Seriously,” said Sam. “Your scheming face is scary as hell. Especially when you’re holding a knife.”</p><p>Sebastian had tried making a movie about Abigail on several occasions (“In a world . . . where a beautiful rich girl with anger issues who at her truest most molten core only wants to be loved discovers that . . .”), but she’d catch him creep-shooting and blow her stack. As much as that girl loved a selfie, she wasn’t big on other people controlling the final product. What he needed was a willing subject, someone as hungry as he was. Someone who warranted a few minutes in the spotlight. Plenty of people craved attention. It had to be the right person, someone who naturally commanded it. Sebastian suspected most outwardly noisy people were boring on the inside. No more than the textbook swirl of insecurities and narcissism</p><p>Jude would make a fascinating subject. All that twitchy energy. Plus, what was up with her bags of stuff? He could shoot an unboxing video where she could unfurl her possessions and explain the thinking behind it all. It could serve as a legend for a map of her brain.</p><p>Sebastian enjoyed texting Jude. They talked about their work, sleep, food, random facts. It didn’t need to be anything important. Their last text had been what to eat for breakfast. Since Jude had seen him at his lowest, there was no reason to act cooler than he was. It felt easy, a bit like summer camp—their texts had no bearing on their actual lives. It helped that she didn’t seem to tire of him. No matter how dumb his questions.</p><p>Would you watch a documentary about a cat?</p><p>She texted back immediately.</p><p>Totally</p><p>Cats rule</p><p>And then:</p><p>Some are assholes tho</p><p>There’s this super cool guy that lives under our porch now</p><p>What else?</p><p>That’s pretty much it</p><p>K then maybe</p><p>At 2:34 p.m. Sebastian had cleared the table, wiped down the kitchen counters, and washed the dishes.</p><p>I have to make a documentary for a class</p><p>Ah</p><p>Ergo cat</p><p>Sebastian enjoyed it as a response. Ergo: cat. He couldn’t call what his new friend would say next. He tried to remember the last time he’d slipped so easily into conversation without the added diversion of skateboarding or drinking or sex. Talks with Jude felt good. Wholesome, normal.</p><p>EMERGENCY JUDE</p><p>Today 6:01 PM</p><p>J: Would you read a short story on zombie food</p><p>Or nah?</p><p>S: Is this a legitimate concern of yours?</p><p>J: Maraschino cherries</p><p>are the undead</p><p>S: OK</p><p>Riveted</p><p>Please continue</p><p>J: Perfectly healthy stone fruit are</p><p>drowned in calcium chloride</p><p>+ sulfur dioxide</p><p>BOOM</p><p>Total ghost food</p><p>It’s how come they’re see-through</p><p>S: Hmm . . .</p><p>I admit my interest is waning</p><p>J: Gus gave me one</p><p>on my pudding</p><p>S: Get it off</p><p>J: It’s so gross</p><p>I can’t touch it</p><p>Today 9:12 PM</p><p>S: Hey</p><p>J: ?</p><p>S: What about a doc on a guy who’s sick?</p><p>J: What kind of sick?</p><p>S: Terminal disease</p><p>J: YES!!</p><p>S: YES!!?</p><p>J: Sounds depressing af</p><p>Into it lol</p><p>Healthcare is so messed up</p><p>Sebastian wondered if Jude was super political or something. If she was aware of what was going on in the world outside Pelican town. Sebastian was bad at politics the same way he was bad at sports. It was all made up. The more yelling there was about it, the more it seemed like a distraction from what was really going on in the world.</p><p>S: Totally</p><p>It makes me sick</p><p>NO PUN INTENDED</p><p>J: It’s sad</p><p>We criminalize the poor</p><p>Everything is broken</p><p>S: OK calm down</p><p>J: Don’t tell me to calm down</p><p>S: I regret typing it</p><p>I’m sorry</p><p>I know girls hate that</p><p>J: EVERYONE hates CALM DOWN</p><p>Not just women (don’t say girls)</p><p>S: OK</p><p>I’m sorry</p><p>Anyway</p><p>Healthcare</p><p>What if the guy took matters into his own hands</p><p>drives to Mexico for drugs</p><p>J: Go on</p><p>S: He meets this other sick dude</p><p>They start a drug ring</p><p>J: And . . .</p><p>S: They sell it to poor people/downtrodden/no healthcare</p><p>J: OMG</p><p>Is this the plot to Dallas</p><p>Buyers Club?</p><p>Sebastian laughed in real life.</p><p>Today 1:45 AM</p><p>S: Top 5 fav things in the world</p><p>don’t think about it just type</p><p>J: Isn’t it a little late to be texting?</p><p>S: Shit were you asleep?</p><p>J: No</p><p>But I could have been</p><p>S: I can’t sleep for shit lately</p><p>J: Me neither</p><p>OK</p><p>Top 5…</p><p>This feels like a trap</p><p>S: It’s not</p><p>I promise</p><p>No judgments</p><p>I don’t know your life</p><p>Your struggles</p><p>YOUR JOURNEY</p><p>Sebastian had been thinking about his favorites in bed. He loved the smell of the air before a thunderstorm. Or how Pelican weather was so crazy and the landscape so flat that you could see the driving rain in a clean, straight sheet when everything that lay ahead of it was sunny.</p><p>J: Pringles</p><p>S: Pringles?</p><p>J: Sorry I’m eating Pringles</p><p>They’re so good</p><p>When’s the last time you had a Pringle</p><p>S: I forgot about them</p><p>J: I’d miss them when I’m dead</p><p>S: You’d miss Pringles when you’re dead?</p><p>J: You said no judgment</p><p>S: Wow</p><p>J: Well?</p><p>S: I guess it’s too late for texting</p><p>J: But not for Pringles</p><p>S: It’s never too late for Pringles</p><p>Then Sebastian texted Abigail. Five weeks late and counting.</p><p>Last time they’d talked she promised to get a blood test and that was almost a week ago. She’d been flaky when they were together, but he couldn’t believe she’d leave him hanging about such a huge deal. This was literally life or death. Bad enough that Abigail often said literally when she meant figuratively.</p><p>Sebastian stared at the screen, willing a bubble to appear.</p><p>Zip.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I decided to add first initials to their texting conversations since they'll probably be doing a lot of that from now on and to avoid any confusion as to who sent what.<br/>But just imagine they're not actually there in their responses! ^_^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. More Issues Than Times Magazine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jude goes on a date<br/>Sebastian goes on a "date"<br/>They both go out, but not with each other.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For reference on what their outfits would look like see chapter 4<br/>*middle picture both sitting down*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>“Is this sheer?” Jude stood in front of the mirror in a white, knee-length cotton dress.</p><p>“Only when you’re backlit.”</p><p>“Is it slutty?”</p><p>Sam scoffed. An odd sound between a bleat and a laugh. “I don’t think you’re capable of slutty,” he said, sitting up in his bed. “I mean,” he continued, “you’re wearing virginal white.”</p><p>Jude had chosen a summery strap dress for her first date with Alex. She wanted him to see her in color. Not that white was a color necessarily, but black extra-wasn’t, and she didn’t want to appear too funereal. If she was going on a date with the guy, she wanted to look good. Maybe her best even if she didn't exactly want to go. Humans were garbage like that.</p><p>“Why did you say yes when you don't really want to go?” asked Sam. “I mean, he's someone who probably expects you to put out on the first date. Everybody knows what that means.” Sam jokingly jerked off the air and mimed spraying the result into the sky.</p><p>“Ew,” said Jude, screwing her face.</p><p>“Listen, no shade,” Sam continued, laughing. “I don’t know your Tinder habits.” Her friend nodded pointedly at the phone in Jude’s hand.</p><p>Jude smiled tightly.</p><p>Right then she and Sebastian were locked in a contest of who could capture the most boringly predictable Instagram photo. He’d just sent the most glorious sunset (#nofilter). Jude was dying to send back one of someone posing in front of the “Hi, How Are You” frog mural next to the library she'd taken of a tourist while wearing a “Hi, How Are You” frog mural T-shirt during the Luau Festival. It was meta and brilliant and a surefire winner except she first had to bumble through this awkward date with Alex first to feel proper triumph. Jude couldn’t wait for it to be over.</p><p>Anthropologically she and Alex were incompatible. But when he had asked her she couldn't find a way to say no. If anything, Jude was grateful he wasn’t big on conversation. She didn’t even know how to explain their arrangement to herself. Jude wondered if she was nervous and promptly yawned. Just as she cried when she was mad, she needed a nap when faced with anxiety. It wasn’t that she was disinterested. It’s that she became overwhelmed, went into overdrive, and shut down. She'd been meaning to hang out with Sam and Penny at the Saloon just to catch up when Alex sprang this on her out of no where.</p><p>Thing is, Jude hadn’t meant to blow anyone off. And she would have passed a polygraph when asked about it. She’d been meaning to go back home to the city the first weekend or else the second to see her mom. Undoubtedly the third. By now, more than a month and a half later, the natives were restless and thinking about it made Jude sleepy.</p><p>In the short while she’d been here—a seemingly negligible sliver of time—her brain reset. The routine rhythms of her old life were booted from her operating system. Sure she missed having kimchi in the fridge or a Costco stash of triple-ply toilet paper stored above a washer and dryer you could operate for free, but whenever her mother texted or when she called, the interruption was staggering. Mind-blowing. She may as well have been getting messages from the spirit world. It was inconceivable that both Pelican and her hometown operated on the same space-time.</p><p>Exhibit A, from Tara:</p><p>OMG J, I saw this girl on the street who I thought was u but she was way fatter!</p><p>What are you supposed to say to that, thanks?</p><p>UGH.</p><p>What if Alex really was expecting her to have sex with him on the first date? He seemed like the type that talked about his penis in the third person. Jude pictured a penis wearing sunglasses and a fedora with a little jacket. It’s not as if Jude could blame him. Alex was a red-blooded male. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to have sex eventually. She did. In theory. She’d tried going through with it once, with a guy she was dating, pretty early on, because honestly, why else would someone go for Jude if not to have regular relationship sex?</p><p>In the end she’d gotten as far as getting naked with some fumbling third-base action. Until the dread came. A sticky inkiness that crept up her neck and swallowed her head whole. They’d maneuvered into a facilitating position and Jude started crying silently, which she didn’t realize she was doing until it scared him and he stopped. She fell asleep soon after.</p><p>And get this: They never talked about it.</p><p>Jude had braced herself for a confrontation, but it simply never happened.</p><p>They dated a little longer after that incident but then it didn't work out for many reasons.</p><p>Jude walked into the Saloon, she was grateful most of the Saturday-morning crowd had cleared out. Alex was already seated when she arrived. The way his eyes lit up as she opened the door sent a small wave of revulsion through her.</p><p>“Hey.” He stood from the table, hugged her, and—horror—handed her a single red rose. It was wrapped in cellophane. And it appeared as if it had spent some time living in a gas station.</p><p>Jude smiled, took the flower—hesitated—then drew her nose to it.</p><p>
  <em>It smelled of printer cartridges.</em>
</p><p>“It’s stupid,” said Alex tenderly. He was wearing a powder-blue dress shirt and silver basketball shorts with flip-flops. “But I wanted to get you something.” </p><p>He was nervous, which made her nervous. Any established couple within stone’s throw would’ve cringed in sympathy.</p><p>“You hate it, don’t you?” he asked tentatively.</p><p>“No, it’s great.” she looked away quickly</p><p>"You look beautiful,” he said, admiring her dress. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you not wearing black.”</p><p>Jude smiled stiffly. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”</p><p>They ordered: tortilla soup for her, biscuits with sausage gravy for him.</p><p>“Not that I don’t love you in black,” he said quickly.  “I think you look good in anything.”</p><p>Jude prayed he didn’t follow with, “I’d love you out of anything.” Heh heh.</p><p>She could imagine such a thing.</p><p>First, she pictured Alex naked. That part was easy. Not entirely unpleasant.</p><p>Then she imagined his pressure on top of her, mashing her, grinding away, with that well-meaning smile, calling her babybabybaby while she became catatonic and wanted to drown.</p><p>See, she could imagine it; she just couldn’t imagine wanting it.</p><p>Jude wanted to be normal. She was almost twenty, for Christ’s sake, a respectable age to start having healthy consensual sex. Sexy sex with someone sexy.</p><p>Jude’s mind went to Sebastian. Tattoos. Scowl. Crinkly eyed laugh. She thought about how his veiny, inked arms would feel encircling her body. The heat emanating from his chest. How he would smell. It was the most pornographic scenario her mind had mustered in public.</p><p>Sebastian was a type of human Jude couldn’t have previously fathomed. Sebastian was proof of life on other planets. If a Sebastian existed, she couldn’t be with an Alex. Not even if she couldn’t be with a Sebastian. To Jude it made perfect sense.</p><p>Their food came.</p><p>They’d both ordered wet food. It was a tactical error. Jude wasn’t in the mood for wet food. Eating it or observing it.</p><p>Alex's plate glistened under a thick blanket of creamy, greasy, white gravy. Jude thought about how it would form a skin if left to cool. Jude watched Alex use the back of his fork to mash the bits of sausage into the biscuit and the sauce into a kind of paste. Her small bowl of watery broth with chips floating on top and sprigs of green didn’t look so great either.</p><p>Jude peered down at the offending frond. Did Alex hate cilantro? She had no idea. She didn't want to be here and she definitely didn't want to string him along just to spare his feelings now only to hurt him later, she should tell him so. Jude wondered if Alex was capable of physically hurting her. Or if he’d cry. She wondered how mad his mad could get.</p><p>Jude couldn’t take it anymore.</p><p>“I don't want to be here,” she said.</p><p>He stared at her uncomprehending for a moment, then recoiled as if he’d been struck. His eyebrows scrambled skyward to his hairline.</p><p>Once outside, she walked back to Sam's place to get her mind off what had just happened.</p><p>“You’re back.” Sam looked up from his laptop. He was sprawled on the floor with an apple core lying beside him.</p><p>“Did he like your dress?”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Jude "Can I use your bathroom?", walking into the bathroom. Sam followed, continuing to talk to her from the other side of the door.</p><p>“I called my dad.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>"Said he should be coming back real soon. . . don't really know how to feel about it"</p><p>Jude sighed and washed her face. She fixed her hair and stepped out.</p><p>“You know,” said Sam, repositioning himself on his bed, “for the record, I think you could absolutely look slutty if you wanted to.”</p><p>Jude laughed.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Jude said.</p><p>“Did Alex bail?”</p><p>"No, but I told him I didn't want to be there"</p><p>"Really?" Sam smiled</p><p>Alex had been enraged. In fact, he’d been so angry that it was the first time Jude had thought he seemed truly . . . masculine. She knew how messed up that was but if you have to put on airs the way he did it just made him seem childish. When Alex let her have it, she zoned out. He’d called her a freak, which hardly qualified as observant. Jude yawned.</p><p>“What else?” asked Sam warily.</p><p>“He ordered biscuits and sausage gravy.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“It was gruesome.”</p><p>“What was gruesome?”</p><p>“Biscuits and gravy. I don’t understand it as a food unit. It’s the most disgusting concept,” she said. “Congealed drippings over globs of flour and butter. How could anyone eat that in public?”</p><p>“Wow,” said Sam, staring at her.</p><p>Jude stared back at Sam.</p><p>“I ask you about a personal trauma and you tell me about the catering?”</p><p>Jude nodded.</p><p>“You’re bad at this.”</p><p>Jude nodded again.</p><p>“You need therapy.”</p><p>Jude nodded a third time.</p><p>“Are you sad?”</p><p>She was.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“You know you can tell me anything,” said Sam.</p><p>Jude regarded her friend’s big, sorrowful eyes and knew it to be true.</p><p>“I’m going to hug you now,” Sam warned.</p><p>Jude nodded.</p><p>The pressure felt good.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>Sebastian stared at himself in the mirror of the medicine cabinet. He was wearing his second nicest button-up, a white dress shirt that he typically saved for weddings or funerals. His first nicest was the Ralph Lauren Abigail had gotten him two Christmases ago, but he didn’t want to wear it. He didn’t want to remind her of the other memory. How he’d gotten her a bracelet so cheap it turned her wrist green. Sebastian buttoned the shirt all the way up to the top. Then unbuttoned the top button. And then buttoned it again. He sighed. He looked like a LinkedIn profile pic.</p><p>It wasn’t a date or anything. You can’t actually date someone you used to date and vowed to never date again. No way Abigail would call it a date. Yet when she texted him for dinner upon ignoring his texts, he was nervous. She probably had something awful to tell him.</p><p>On the upside, he hadn’t had any panic attacks since the first and he imagined his body was saving up for just such an occasion. Sebastian pictured himself stumbling in slo-mo through the dining room of Mother’s Italian Restaurant (his favorite restaurant in the city), grabbing tables for support, sending plates of tagliatelle crashing to the floor. He’d ruin Liar’s expensive dress and wouldn’t hear the end of it. Sebastian wanted to shoot a selfie to Jude for outfit approval except they didn’t do that sort of thing. As if she could sense him thinking about her, Jude texted him.</p><p>Should I read Harry Potter from the beginning again?</p><p>He took a selfie in the bathroom mirror and sent it to her.</p><p>She wrote back:</p><p>Um</p><p>And then:</p><p>So I SHOULD read them or...</p><p>OK</p><p>wait</p><p>did you do that on purpose</p><p>S: I need advice</p><p>Help me</p><p>J: OK</p><p>Take the plea deal!</p><p>Ask me something else</p><p>my advice RN is en FUEGO</p><p>S: Stop</p><p>J: WAIT so you don’t have a court date?</p><p>S: I’m seeing Abigail</p><p>Jude fell silent. Bubble. Then no bubble.</p><p>So he wrote:</p><p>It’s not a date</p><p>Sebastian didn’t know why he was explaining himself. After a long moment she responded.</p><p>So no bowling or Putt-Putt?</p><p>Ice skating</p><p>Then karaoke</p><p>Waterfall picnic at dusk</p><p>S: Very cool</p><p>J: PS hay rides &gt; karaoke</p><p>Don’t forget flowers</p><p>Carnations!</p><p>NO!</p><p>A corsage!</p><p>S: Dinner</p><p>Just dinner</p><p>I want to die</p><p>J: Why die?</p><p>S: Probably have a panic attack</p><p>J: “Calm down”</p><p>S: Ha.</p><p>So shirt? Y/N?</p><p>J: Shirt seems desperate</p><p>Dress regular</p><p>S: Sooooo . . . orange bell-bottoms</p><p>J: Yah and pink Uggs</p><p>S: Pls delete this foto</p><p>J: NEVER</p><p>Send n00dz</p><p>Sebastian took off the shirt and grabbed a black T-shirt. The blue veins coursed along his body like tributaries until they disappeared under the indelible black tattoos that had been carved into him. He had sixteen in all from an artist whose house he’d painted in exchange for hours in his chair. He stared at his chest, curving his shoulders inward and creating a golf-ball-size divot on his sternum. For a brief period, he’d tried to gain weight, filling gallon plastic jugs of water and using them as dumbbells, hoisting them above his head over and over in front of the mirror. The hopeful determination in his reflection as he stood in his underwear was embarrassing even in memory.</p><p>At first he’d gotten the tattoos to create a diversion from his slight frame but now he no longer hated his body. It was tidy. Contained. Efficient. Though Jude would probably be horrified if she ever did see him with his clothes off. Objectively, his body was somewhat alarming.</p><p>Sebastian picked Abigail up in Willy’s car that he'd borrowed slightly before eight. It was a mud-brown fourteen-year-old beater that was so rusted through you could lift the mat on the driver’s side and watch the highway rush by from a quarter-sized peephole.</p><p>Sebastian texted her as she'd requested.</p><p>Abigail. Abby. Abs.</p><p>He could practically feel his pupils dilate when he saw her.</p><p>“Nice dress,” he said when she opened the door to his car. He wondered if he should’ve gotten out and opened it for her, though she would’ve made fun of him for it. It wasn’t as if she were infirm.</p><p>“Uh, thanks for picking me up.” She pulled him in for a hug. It was an awkward sideways embrace where you’re both sitting down and the non-hugging arm gets mashed, but still, it knocked the wind out of him.</p><p>As was customary for when he saw her, he felt his thoughts go all soft and watery. She smelled so good, exactly the way she was supposed to. He knew every bit of real estate on her body. He thought about her feet again.</p><p>Abigail pulled away and started laughing. “This is so absurd,” she said, putting her seat belt on.</p><p>“I can’t believe Willy loaned you his car.” She looked into the backseat and wrinkled her nose. “I could have picked you up.”</p><p>“Where’s the fun in that?”</p><p>Sebastian partially regretted leaving Willy’s empty mead bottles in the backseat even if he’d done it on purpose. This was not a date.</p><p>By the time Sebastian pulled up at Mother’s, they’d exhausted small talk. And when Sebastian got her door, she didn’t make too big a deal out of it. She thanked him primly and touched his forearm.</p><p>They slid into the deep, padded booth. On their early dates, they were the annoying couple that sat on the same side, whispering, canoodling, picking up bits of food to feed each other like lovesick birds.</p><p>“Do you want to split the ziti and the sausage and peppers?” Abigail asked, scanning the menu. Sebastian had been dreaming about meatballs, yet he found himself shrugging. “Sure.”</p><p>Sebastian remembered why they shared food whenever they went out. Abigail would order the two things she wanted and strong-armed him into wanting them as well.</p><p>“Are you sure you don’t want to get a vegetable or a salad?” he asked, eyeing the sides. “Something with folate?”</p><p> Abigail peered over the leather-bound wine list.</p><p>“Sebastian, what is folate?”</p><p>“It’s in broccoli,” he said. “Pregnant ladies have to take it so the baby’s spine doesn’t grow outside of their bodies. Don’t do an image search. It’s upsetting.”</p><p>She laughed.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t laugh.”</p><p>Abigail picked up a piece of focaccia, dipped it in olive oil, and took a bite, chewing slowly.</p><p>She crossed her arms, and Sebastian noticed the glint of a new charm bracelet on her wrist. It was visibly expensive—crowded with ornate silver beads and intricate replicas of what appeared to be shoes. He wondered who’d bought it for her.</p><p>“How are you, Abby?” he asked. What he wanted to ask her was: “Do you miss me?” But it didn’t quite seem the right time. Maybe after tiramisu.</p><p>Sebastian also really wanted to ask what all of this was about. Whether she’d had her appointment and discovered complications. Why else would she not have texted him back?</p><p>“Before you light into me,” she began, “I haven’t gone to the clinic yet.”</p><p>He couldn’t believe it.</p><p>“What? Why?”</p><p>“I couldn’t make it,” she said, snapping a breadstick in half. “It was insane with all the school work. But I made an appointment for tomorrow. I’m going tomorrow.”</p><p>Sebastian couldn’t believe how cavalier she was being. Period lateness count: seven weeks.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p>“I . . . I couldn’t deal.” She crumbled the rest of the breadstick onto the tablecloth.</p><p>“Well, you’re going to have to deal with this,” he said. “We’re going to have to deal.”</p><p>“I know,” she said. “I know this makes no sense, but I don’t think I’m pregnant. I don’t feel pregnant.”</p><p>Sebastian studied Abigail for any physical differences. He took a quick peek at her boobs and they appeared about the same.</p><p>“Are you checking me out to see if I look knocked up?”</p><p>Yes.</p><p>“No,” he told her.</p><p>The waiter came around.</p><p>“Uh, yeah, we’re going to split the ziti and the . . .” Man, he definitely wanted meatballs.</p><p>“Sausage and peppers,” she finished.</p><p>“And a glass of merlot,” said Abigail. She pulled out her fake ID.</p><p>“I guess you really don’t feel pregnant, huh?” he asked, once the waiter had left.</p><p>Abigail rolled her eyes. “French women drink up until the very end,” she said.</p><p>“French women also eat horse,” said Sebastian under his breath.</p><p>“What?” Abigail asked.</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“I take it you’re not drinking lately?” She leaned back into the booth.</p><p>“No,” said Sebastian, leaning in. “Haven’t since all of this happened,” he said, stirring the sky with his forefinger.</p><p>“Understandable. The smell of gin still turns my stomach.” Abigail shuddered.</p><p>Shameful scenes from their breakup slammed into Sebastian’s head. The two of them screaming in the street after his debit card stopped working. She’d called him a “bum like his father” and he’d called her a “duplicitous bitch.”</p><p>“Abby, why’d you ask me here?”</p><p>“Well, you picked the restaurant,” she said, smiling sweetly.</p><p>“Abigail . . .”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she said, averting her gaze. “I thought it would be nice.”</p><p>Abigail snapped another breadstick into even smaller pieces and arranged them on the table.</p><p>He braced himself for the news that they were having twins. Or that she was engaged to someone else.</p><p>“That’s it? Really?” he asked. “No news?”</p><p>She shook her head.</p><p>“You know what?” he said after a while.</p><p>She glanced up at him.</p><p>“Let’s create a pact.”</p><p>“A pact,” she repeated. Abigail reached for another breadstick to pulverize. He took it from her. Wasted food made him crazy.</p><p>“Yeah,” he said. “The pact is we’ll table everything serious for the duration of the meal, and you and me, we’ll catch up.”</p><p>Abigail’s wine arrived.</p><p>“We don’t have to talk about the other stuff.”</p><p>“Deal,” she said. She raised her glass in a toast and took a sip.</p><p>Sebastian wanted to excuse himself to look up fetal alcohol syndrome statistics but couldn’t in the spirit of the pact. Stupid pact . . .</p><p>“So,” said Abigail. “What I want to know is . . .” She paused.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Never mind,” she said.</p><p>“No, tell me.”</p><p>"Have you been talking with anyone?"</p><p>Sebastian blinked. “Not really,” he said.</p><p>“Not really?”</p><p>“Just friends,” he said. A partial lie at worst. “Why the Spanish Inquisition?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.</p><p>Their pasta dishes landed on the table with a thud as Sebastian decided he wasn’t hungry. The ziti looked dry.</p><p>“Eat and switch?” she asked. “And don’t worry, dinner’s on me.”</p><p>Sebastian nodded and handed her the sausage first. She inevitably wanted the sausage first so she could pick out the crispy ends. The best parts.</p><p>“Well.” Abigail tried again. “I know you’re not dating any of them, unless you count your bromance with Sam. Which I obviously don’t envy.”</p><p>Sebastian’s cheeks burned. Abigail had a habit of kidding in a way that made you want to walk off a bridge.</p><p>“And I talked to Gunner and Gash, I know you haven't been around them.” Sebastian used to see Gunner and his cousin Ash (a.k.a. Gash) four nights a week.</p><p>He fell silent.</p><p>“How’s school?” she asked after a while. Sebastian shoveled a forkful of pasta into his mouth to mull over the answer. He nodded while he chewed.</p><p>Why was Abigail on a fact-finding mission?</p><p>“Good.” He swallowed. “As you know I’m taking a film course and it’s fine. A lot of freedom. I’m shooting a documentary.”</p><p>“Finally,” she said, picking at her meal. “Isn’t it expensive?”</p><p>“It ain’t cheap,” he said. “But you can borrow gear, and if all else fails, I’ve got my phone. I’ll shoot it fast and dirty.”</p><p>“Well, that suits you,” she said.</p><p>What the hell did that mean?</p><p>They ate in silence.</p><p>“Your turn,” said Sebastian, working to keep his tone even. “How’s school for you?”</p><p>“School’s good,” she said. “Nothing to write home about. Hopefully I can get a good grade with finals. I think I want to go on vacation soon though.”</p><p>“That’s great,” he said. He realized he meant it.</p><p>“And I love the people I do some of the work with,” she said. “They’re young and fun to talk with. You’d think they’re corny.”</p><p>Sebastian thought of Harvey again and frowned</p><p>“Sausage?”</p><p>Sebastian nodded. The plate of oily meat and tangles of peppers and onions made him queasy. Or perhaps it was something else.</p><p>“Abby, what happened to us?”</p><p>Abigail laughed dryly and took another sip of wine.</p><p>“So much for the pact.”</p><p>“Well,” he said. “We make up and break up without talking about what actually happened.”</p><p>“What are you asking me, Sebastian?”</p><p>“It doesn’t make sense to me,” he said. “Why we’re not together.”</p><p>Abigail put her fork down and sighed.</p><p>“We don’t make sense,” she said. As if that explained anything.</p><p>“How can you say that?”</p><p>Sebastian suddenly wished he’d ordered a glass of wine. Or a box.</p><p>“We’re not friends,” she said.</p><p>Sebastian felt the dull thud of her words in his sternum. It took all of his composure to maintain eye contact. He scrunched his napkin under the table.</p><p>“We were these lunatic hotheads that fought and made up,” Abigail continued. “You’d scream and cry. I’d want to get it over with, and that was that.”</p><p>Sebastian couldn’t stand the way she distilled their relationship to the plot of a formulaic rom-com. Or as if she were wearing a white coat and chuckling about the mating lab rats she kept under observation.</p><p>“You say that like there weren’t truly beautiful moments,” he muttered into his food. “We loved each other.”</p><p>“I know we did,” she said. She took his hand in hers, with a tender smile playing on her lips, as though she were bargaining with a child. “I still love you in a way. I swear to God, Sebastian, sometimes you were so good at literally reading my mind.”</p><p>Sebastian pictured Abigail cracking his skull open and reading his brain grooves literally like braille.</p><p>“But we were together for two years,” she continued. “And you didn’t make an effort to get to know me or my family.”</p><p>At the mention of “family,” Sebastian stiffened. He recalled the abysmal Easter when he’d had dinner with them.</p><p>“Oh, you mean the time your racist dad asked me if I had any Gotoro blood so he’d have a real reason to hate me?”</p><p>Abigail removed her hand from his. “No, he didn’t,” she said.</p><p>“He sure did,” he said. Not that it made a difference. The night was a wash from the get-go. </p><p>“I don’t know,” she said. “You were outright hostile toward them. It’s hardly my parents’ fault that they’re well off. They work like demons.”</p><p>She said this plainly. As if there were no privileges inherent in being land-rich by pedigree for generations. A distant relative on her mom’s side, A.J. Masters, had also happened to invent the Frito. Rather, he’d happened to buy the recipe for a song from the Mexican man who’d invented it.</p><p>“It’s not as if it were some great secret that you were”—she gazed up at him—“not well off.” She miraculously sidestepped calling him poor. “Your clothes are a dead giveaway."</p><p>Sebastian chewed on the inside of his cheek. Abigail went on cataloging his shortcomings between bites of food. Sebastian was a romantic, no doubt, and these were parts of their relationship he’d forgotten about. The comparisons. Sebastian wanted to get up, calmly set his napkin down, and sprint out into the night.</p><p>“Hey,” said Abigail, poking his hand. “I’m just joshing. Partly.”</p><p>Sebastian didn’t think so. He took another bite as his stomach roiled. Though, mercifully, he didn’t pass out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter is going to be in Maru's point of view<br/>Although it'll be short, sweet and to the point<br/>but also very not sweet lol<br/>Drama ahead!</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Skeletons In The Closet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Maru finds out about Harvey &amp; Abigail and has a heart to heart with Sebastian</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is probably the shortest chapter of the entire story.<br/>I've got about two more chapters already written before the updates come in once every 2 weeks or so.<br/>I hope you look forward to them.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <strong>MARU</strong>
</p><p>Things have been off lately. Not that there had been any perceptible change. It just <em>felt</em> off.</p><p>I loved working at the clinic, I loved being able to make a difference in the lives of the people of my town. Doctor Harvey was someone I admired, he just had this way of making you feel like everything was going to be okay. Maybe that was when I started to notice him more. To look at him as not just 'Doctor Harvey' but as a man. If only I could just reach him. . . sometimes, I worry that I ruin things. But I feel. . . I dunno. I feel comfortable with him. Sort of safe. There are times it seemed like he was interested but I was never really sure.</p><p>Life is short. I need to make the most of it. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I'm a walking cliché. If I stop putting things off, I would be happier. Maybe it's my brain chemistry. Maybe that's what's wrong with me. Bad chemistry. All my problems and anxiety can be reduced to a chemical imbalance or some kind of misfiring synapses. I need to get help for that. There are too many ideas and things and people. Too many directions to go. I was starting to believe the reason it matters to care passionately about something, is that it whittles the world down to a more manageable size.</p><p>UGH. why am I so emo right now? I should be focusing on my projects.</p><p>Doctor Harvey was taking care of George at the moment which is why I was keeping myself busy with paperwork but not to the point where I couldn't step away in case he needed me for anything.</p><p></p><div class="quoteDetails">
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    <p>“Thank you doctor, we'll make sure to follow your recommendations, isn't that right George?” said Evelyn pushing George in his wheelchair into the front lobby. George grumbled but nodded.</p>
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    <p>“I certainly hope so, if you need anything please do not hesitate to come see me alright?” said Harvey</p>
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    <p>Evelyn thanked him and came to my desk to set the next appointment, she gave me a small smile and they made their way out.</p>
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    <p>Harvey dropped off the files and asked me to input everything into the computers and said he was going to grab us something from the Saloon and would be right back. As I finished up with that small task he returned and invited me to eat lunch with him in his office. Readily I agreed. If I could spend any one on one time with him of course I would take it.</p>
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    <p>His office was a small space but it was so him, little things scattered here and there that would tell me something—anything—about him that I could hang on to in my Harvey file that I kept in my head. However there was a new addition, a small black square box containing a watch next to one of his small human anatomy displays he kept on a shelf next to his computer. I wonder who gave that to him. . . Let's not think about it or I'll just get myself into a rabbit hole I don't want to go down.</p>
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    <p>God. I think he is properly beautiful. Sitting in this close proximity should be illegal.</p>
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        <p>“You know why I like plants?” Harvey asked her.</p>
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        <p>“Nuh uh”</p>
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        <p>“Because they're so mutable. Adaptation is a profound process. Means you figure out how to thrive in the world.”</p>
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        <p>I thought about that for a moment. He wasn't wrong.</p>
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        <p>“Yeah but it's easier for plants. I mean they have no memory. They just move on to whatever's next. With a person though, adapting is almost shameful. It's like running away.”</p>
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    <p>He smiled at me then. And it felt like my brain was going to short circuit.</p>
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    <p>“Hello?” we heard someone say</p>
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    <p>“I'll go. finish your food.” I walked out before he could protest. I wasn't about to let him skip lunch.</p>
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    <p>I walked out towards the front and was greeted with a 'Hey'</p>
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    <p>It was Abigail.</p>
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    <p>what is she doing here?</p>
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    <p>“Sorry do you have an appointment?” I asked</p>
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    <p>“No, I don't really need one. He's expecting me” she told me as if it was obvious.</p>
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    <p>“Oh. well he—” before I could finish she waved her hand at me in what I assumed was a dismissal and walked into the back towards Harvey's office.</p>
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    <p>Sometimes, I just. . . let things happen. Even though I didn't want them to. I'm not sure why.</p>
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    <p>Why is she here? What does she want? And why was Harvey <em>expecting</em> her?</p>
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    <p>I must have been lost in thought for a while because suddenly there was Evelyn in front of me, looking up I quickly fixed my glasses and put a smile on my face</p>
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    <p>“Pardon?” I said.</p>
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    <p>“I'm so sorry dear I think I left my shawl in Doctor Harvey's office, could you grab it for me please?” her hand shook as she said this.</p>
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    <p>She was frail but that's just something that comes with old age I guess.</p>
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    <p>“Of course, give me one moment” I stood from my chair and made my way to Harvey's office. Stopping in front of his door.</p>
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    <p>Should I knock? I know that's the polite thing to do but something keeps nagging at me about this particular visit. So I did what anyone would, I opened the door sensing I probably wouldn't like what I would see on the other side of it.</p>
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    <p>Shit. I knew it.</p>
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    <p>There was Abigail sitting on top of Harvey's desk pulling his tie towards her while he hovered over her. This was intimate.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>Clearing my throat they both looked over and I saw his eyes widen in alarm and quickly stepped away from Abigail who remained seated on his desk but simply chose to look away from me.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“Sorry, Evelyn forgot her shawl and I was just coming in to retrieve it”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>I grabbed it and shut the door without looking at either one of them again. As if on autopilot I handed Evelyn her shawl she thanked me and left.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>I really need to cry</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>Why did I go in? I'm such an idiot. I should have knocked. I've blown it. I should just go and knock on his door and apologize for walking in like that. . .</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>As I was thinking that, Abigail walked out and left without sparing me a second glance.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“Maru? Can we talk in my office please?” she heard him say from behind her.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>She nodded and slowly walked back into his office. He exhaled slowly and looked at her briefly.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“Are you together?” she blurted</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“It's a bit complicated right now. . .” he answered</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“Okay. how long?” she thought of Sebastian. Did he know? Should she say anything?</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“A while”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>My heart can't take this.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“While she was with Sebastian?”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>He looked at her then. She felt sick.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“Does he know?” she asked</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“Yes.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>Sometimes you realize you had a thing keeping you going that might be a lie. . . When you actually understand that, that the whole thing might have been a lie the whole time, it's like you've swallowed a stone.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“Ok . . . I'd like to take the rest of the day off please”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“Sure, anything you need” he said</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>She went to her desk and collected her things in a daze, and walked home.  Once there she went into the kitchen and drank a glass of water.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>Sometimes, everything is suddenly really simple. It's like everything shifts in a moment. And you step out of your body, out of your life. You step out and you see where you are really clearly. You see yourself. And you think. . . Fuck. This. Shit.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <hr/>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>
      <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>She'd stormed into his room startling him enough that he fell backwards from his desk chair.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“Jesus Maru! Don't you knock?!”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>Wincing from the slight bump to his head he looked up towards her and his face turned into concern. Maru was standing there, puffing and red with watering eyes that she kept swiping to keep the tears from overflowing onto her face.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“You want to know what's wrong with me, yeah?”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“Maru?”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“You. You are. You don't care about me. You don't give the tiniest shit—”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“Of course I give a shit!” he yelled</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>where was this coming from?</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“Why didn't you tell me about Abigail and Harvey” she choked out.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>Shit.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>He knew this would come out eventually he just didn't want to deal with the collateral damage. Maru was in love with Harvey, it wasn't exactly a secret. Or if it was she wasn't very good at hiding it.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“I don't know what you're talking about” he said trying to sound convincing</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“Don't. Okay. Lying by omission is still lying”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“What do you want me to tell you Maru?”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“Anything! I'm tired of acting like strangers, you're my brother whether you like it or not. And I care about you, I care that the girl you love hurt you and you didn't tell me.” she wiped at her eyes more.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>He sighed, grabbed her hands and sat her down on his couch.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“I loved Abigail, Maru. It was mine, that love. I owned it. Even Abigail didn't have the right to take it away. I can love whoever I want.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“But she hurt you. . .” she looked into his eyes trying to understand</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“That was her business, not mine. You are what you love, not what loves you. That's what I decided.” he looked at their hands before he continued.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“It's hard not to hate. People, things, institutions, when they break your spirit and take pleasure in watching you bleed, hate is the only feeling that makes sense. But I know what hate does to a person, tears them apart, turns them into something they promised they'd never become.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>Her eyes teared up again</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“That's what I need to tell you to let you know how hard I am trying not to cave under the weight of all the awful things I feel in my heart. Sometimes my life feels like a deadly balancing act, when I feel slamming up against what I should do, impulsive reactions racing to solutions miles ahead of my brain.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>He wanted to be honest with her, something he'd been meaning to do for a while now.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“When I look at my day, I realize that most of it was spent cleaning up the damage of the day before. In that life I don't have a future, all I have is distraction and remorse and as cliché as this sounds everyday is a new day, you're the one who determines if it's a gift or a coffin.”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>He hugged her then. And she sobbed until she was able to calm back down.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>They sat in silence. He thought of the day he and Abigail broke up.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>That was the day I learned that silence is really loud. <em>Deafening</em>.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>I think maybe my dad spent his whole life trying to avoid silence. When you have silence, it's hard to keep stuff out. It's all there, and you can't get rid of it. I used to be able to get rid of things, banish them. But I knew after that day it wouldn't be so easy any more. . .</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“I love you Maru” he said</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>“I love you too Sebastian, and thank you for talking to me even if I basically forced your hand”</p>
  </div>
  <div class="quoteText">
    <p>He laughed and they went upstairs to grab something to eat.</p>
  </div>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Small World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sebastian and Jude feel it's great that they don't have to actually be in each other's company in order to be friends.<br/>Best to stay on their phones. You get all the benefits of 'other people' without the body odor and the eye contact.<br/>But is that what they actually want or is that what they want to convince themselves of.</p><p>Sebastian finds someone he wants to film for his project.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>Sebastian heard the garbage trucks. Then the birds. His body knew it was morning before the light changed outside and the room warmed. It used to be that he’d be getting home with the trash collectors. Sebastian couldn’t tell if he’d slept. For weeks when he first stopped drinking he’d had terrible nightmares. Vivid dreams of fistfights with his father or Abigail’s funeral—Psych 101 stuff. Then it flipped for no reason and he slept like the dead. Dreamless slumber he had to wrench himself from in the morning, pillow damp with drool, deep creases on his face where his skin had folded and he hadn’t moved. Now insomnia popped up to mix it up.</p><p>Good morning! he typed into his phone.</p><p>It was the first thing he did now.</p><p>Sebastian showered. The hot water coursed over his body, poaching his skin. Seeing Abigail had been discouraging. Sad. He felt emotionally hungover from the night before with Maru. As if he’d clenched all his muscles the entire time.</p><p>He missed his friends from the city sometimes. Gunner and Gash were entertaining, but without booze and bars, he knew they’d have nothing to talk about.</p><p>Sebastian towel-dried his hair and shook it out. At the top of the summer, Gunner’s ex, Angie, came by to give him a cut. She’d come alone, which was awkward enough, and when they set up on the porch, her hands lingered on the back of his neck, suggesting she had something else in mind. Sebastian couldn’t bear it. He sent her away with promises to keep in touch, and when she never came back he was relieved.</p><p>His phone buzzed.</p><p>Tacos &amp; movie?</p><p>Shit, Maru.</p><p>They’d planned on dinner tonight in the city. Well, dinner and a movie. Sebastian had made the suggestion. Al Pastor tacos at the good taco spot, not the ruined shitty philanderer taco spot, followed by a late-night screening of Gremlins 2 where they’d have crème brûlées.</p><p>Whenever Maru texted him, Sebastian unfailingly thought, Shit, Maru, despite his affection for her. Maru was a sweet kid. It’s just that he already saw her most weekday mornings when they had coffee before she went on with her day, and that was plenty.</p><p>Sebastian got himself an espresso. Would it kill him to have dinner with her?</p><p>Probably.</p><p>He exhaled the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, cringed, and typed.</p><p>I’m so sorry Maru</p><p>Have to work</p><p>He pictured Maru staring at her screen and hating him.</p><p>He typed again.</p><p>Next week?</p><p>Uuuuuugh. Why did he do that?</p><p>Jude texted him back.</p><p>Good morning!</p><p>Did you know da vinci didn’t sleep</p><p>Only naps</p><p>30 mins/4 hrs</p><p>He knew when she texted in bursts that she had something else going on. He checked the time. It was 8:08. She was either farming or running late on it. Sebastian loved that he could talk to her all day without worrying about seeing her.</p><p>Historically, communicating with girls wasn’t hard. When they show interest, you show interest back by asking a ton of questions. Jude was receptive to questions, though her responses were rarely coy or suggestive. Plus, she made zero effort to hang out. She seemed somehow immune to the mechanics of flirting. Sebastian wondered if she found him attractive.</p><p>EMERGENCY JUDE</p><p>Yesterday 4:37 PM</p><p>Dogs or cats?</p><p>It cracked him up that Jude was in his phone as “Emergency Jude” since none of her texts constituted an emergency.</p><p>Sebastian typed back:</p><p>BABY GOATS</p><p>He was pleased with that one. He had a supercut of goats ready to go. Sebastian pasted the link and hit send.</p><p>Whoa</p><p>Thursday 12:09 AM</p><p>Pie or cake?</p><p>Sebastian was making a pecan pie with an ornate lattice on top and wanted to show it off if pie won out. He’d perfected his crust with frozen butter that you grated like cheese.</p><p>J: Cake</p><p>Sheet cake</p><p>From a box</p><p>S: What???</p><p>Gross</p><p>You’re insane</p><p>He slid the pie into the oven, feeling stupid for how deflated he felt.</p><p>Pie obviously. Cobbler above sheet cake. Ew. He wasn’t sure they’d recover from that.</p><p>Sebastian knew pie versus cake wasn’t their only incompatibility. He couldn’t imagine the space Jude would take up in his life if she sprang out of his phone. He couldn’t envision her from across the room laughing with most of the people he knew. Or scooping peas into her mouth at a table. In fact, sometimes he could barely make out her likeness in his head since it had been so long since he’d seen her and there were so few images of her online. There was a photo from a school yearbook, but she looked so young and unhappy at having her picture taken that Sebastian felt strongly that he was trespassing.</p><p>His phone buzzed again. Maru.</p><p>It’s OK!</p><p>Next week is great</p><p>Good luck with work</p><p>Jude was still on some tangent about polyphasic sleep schedules.</p><p>J: Nikola Tesla too</p><p>No sleep club</p><p>Or sleep sometimes club</p><p>So tired</p><p>Did you sleep</p><p>HOW ARE YOU?</p><p>Jude always asked how he was doing.</p><p>S: No sleep!</p><p>It was a supermoon tho</p><p>Makes your brain chemistry insane</p><p>Shitty moon</p><p>J: Hate the moon</p><p>S: I tried to film this morning</p><p>J: And?</p><p>S: Well I tried</p><p>J: Brb chkns</p><p>S: :(</p><p>Sebastian realized he’d also become way too accustomed to emoji. He felt like a teen girl. Jude was a teen girl, he reminded himself. He should really start thinking about women his own age, say, the one who was carrying his unborn child. Sebastian groaned into his empty room. Jude was Sam’s age, which made her eighteen or nineteen. Sebastian wondered about her birthday and what her favorite type of boxed sheet cake was. Probably chocolate with white icing. Some sprinkles maybe. Glittery black ones to match her stuff. Not that it mattered. He imagined how horrified she’d be if he showed up at her place with an actual physical cake IRL.</p><p>Maybe they could be friends when she was old enough to count as a person. Perhaps when she was twenty-five and he, at twenty-eight or twenty-nine, could be the cool, older guy-pal who would give her tax advice and beat the living daylights out of any age-appropriate boyfriend who mistreated her. Or at least glare at him in a menacing way. God. Sebastian would be almost thirty by then. <em>Disgusting</em>.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>Jude hoofed it to the library, she'd promised Penny to help her with some lessons with the kids. Her hair was that type of long where it got caught in her armpits at the worst times. She wanted to stop and sit on the bench outside to flood Sebastian’s phone with questions about his date, but she restrained herself. Instead she talked about the varying sleep cycles of geniuses who later became psychos. As you do.</p><p>She’d been dying to ask him. Instead she beamed the Internet into her eyes for distraction, stalking MzAbbyXO, rendering sleep impossible. Jude’s own Instagram account was set to private and while her feed contained only six pictures, it was useful for anonymous lurking or as cover for the accidental deep-like. That MzAbbyXO had a new photo in her feed of Sebastian’s hands—from a few weeks ago—dismantled her. MzAbbyXO had tagged him holding a broken laptop, and Jude knew it was for sure him because of the horse tattoo. When Jude clicked through to his account, it had been deleted. Jude was relieved and a little butt-hurt—okay a lot butt-hurt—that he hadn’t mentioned seeing her that night. At one a.m., eyeballs throbbing from the screen time, she’d eaten two of Sam’s protein bars he'd given her without realizing they had sixteen grams of fiber in each. They lay heavy in her stomach—forming a kind of petrified roughage diamond—as she scrambled across town.</p><p>Jude didn’t know why she was being such a headcase. It was better for the baby if Sebastian and Abby reconciled. It was the natural order of the universe for them to be together. If two gazelles gallivanted around the savanna, it was no business of the tree frog. Jude was the tree frog obviously.</p><p>When she got to the library, Penny was wearing a jumpsuit made—improbably—of complicated balls of twine. Needless to say, she looked amazing. She smiled at her and they started the lesson.</p><p>Unfortunately she'd spaced out about fifteen minutes in. What if there had been some big update about Sebastian’s baby? Would he have told her? Yes, he would have. At least she thought he would. Except that he hadn’t told Jude about seeing Abby weeks ago, so why would he tell her about the date? About how they’d eloped while Jude sat at home alone eating her feelings. What if Sebastian was married now? Jeez. That would make him about as tragic as they came. An impregnated Abby was his hamartia, or fatal flaw. Oh God, or maybe Jude was the tragic hero and Sebastian was her flaw. She tried to refocus on what Penny was saying.</p><p>Trouble was, Jude had to admit she only knew Sebastian because he was going through something. It was the classic fish-out-of-water scenario. Sebastian was a stranger in a strange land made up of millions of Jude’s text messages.</p><p>It was bizarre how much time he had for her. Suspicious. He hadn’t mentioned his family or friends other than Abigail. Maybe he was in the Witness Protection Program. But that made zero sense, since Sam would be too much of a liability. Sam who just that morning complained that Sebastian was avoiding him.</p><p>Sebastian had to be slumming to be talking to her this much. He was cooler than Jude empirically. It was opportunistic of her, as a tree frog, to take so much of Sebastian’s time.</p><p>She vowed not to text him for the rest of the day.</p><p>Haley was lying on her front porch when Jude got home from grabbing groceries after finishing her lessons earlier in the day. Sam was sitting on the steps showing Penny how to play a game on his Nintendo.</p><p>“Hey, Jude!” Sam’s face lit up and he gave her a hug. He was warm. “Dude, I have so much to tell you!”</p><p>“We’re going to see Maru and then grab some food,” said Haley, rolling onto her back and pulling at the gum in her mouth. “Come with?”</p><p>“I can’t,” said Jude. “I have some work to finish here on the farm.”</p><p>“You didn't get to finish this morning?” asked Sam. “You were up at six a.m. or something when you answered my text from last night.”</p><p>“Sorry,” said Jude. “I didn’t get very far.”</p><p>Jude’s phone beeped in her bag.</p><p>Haley rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Why? Because you were texting your new boyfriend?” Haley nodded toward her stuff.</p><p>“Hal,” said Penny.</p><p>“Clearly she’s boning someone,” Haley insisted. “She’s worse than I am with that thing.”</p><p>Jude’s cheeks flushed.</p><p>“I know you’re private, Jude, but it is obvious,” said Penny. “And it’s great, she doesn't have to tell us”</p><p>“That's not exactly it,” muttered Jude</p><p>“Not exactly. I can’t hang out. I’m Jude, little miss serious farmer with a shady new boyfriend I won’t talk about.” Haley sat up with a dare in her smile.</p><p>“Whatever, Haley.” Jude turned back to grab her keys.</p><p>“Forget it,” she said, arching her eyebrow. “Come on, guys. Shady Jude doesn’t want to hang out with us.”</p><p>“Do you want us to bring you anything?” asked Sam.</p><p>Jude shook her head.</p><p>“Want to have dinner later?”</p><p>“Maybe,” said Jude.</p><p>“Well, make an effort,” said Sam. “We have so much to catch up on. Like, how I just got a paid gig in the city.”</p><p>“Whoa, that’s amazing!” exclaimed Jude. “And your mom’s cool with it?”</p><p>“Not exactly,” said Sam, rolling his eyes. “Mostly she shit-talked about getting there and having to deal with a ton more people.”</p><p>“I need coffee,” whined Haley, tugging on Sam’s arm.</p><p>“Okay, okay,” said Sam. “Catch you later?”</p><p>Jude nodded.</p><p>She could hear Haley as they were walking away.</p><p>“I don’t know what you see in her.”</p><p>Haley could throw salt all she liked. There was no way Jude would go to Maru's and have an off chance of letting Sebastian see her. That would ruin everything. Sebastian would take one look at her and be like, “Yikes, never mind.”</p><p>Instead of working, Jude snack-crastinated. She chewed a Lactaid, then grabbed a jar of Nutella and pulled out a heaping spoonful. She placed it in the middle of a cereal bowl and dumped a mini bag of Cheetos into it. She carefully dipped a twiglet into the hazelnut smear and popped it into her mouth. Then she checked her phone.</p><p>BASH</p><p>Today 2:02 PM</p><p>Do you know what the simulation hypothesis is?</p><p>And when she didn’t respond immediately:</p><p>Hello?</p><p>unsubscribe?</p><p>Is this thing on?</p><p>So much for not texting for the rest of the day. She wrote:</p><p>Sam and Penny are en route + Haley</p><p>He texted back immediately</p><p>Here?</p><p>J: Yeah</p><p>She dipped another Cheeto.</p><p>S: Are you coming?</p><p>J: Hell no</p><p>Jude typed without thinking.</p><p>S: Ahhahahah thanks a lot</p><p>It’s not that they’d explicitly discussed it; they just knew.</p><p>S: Is it crazy that we don’t hang out?</p><p>Jude’s hand hovered over the keypad. Neon cheesy flavor crystals fleeced the thumb and forefinger of her non-texting hand. A brown-orange lichen she couldn’t wait to scrape off with her teeth.</p><p>J: Hang out?</p><p>She was stalling.</p><p>There was no way she’d allow him to see her do 97 percent of her normal daily activities. She was a monster. A monster who was flat as a board with no ass. In fact, the only thing she had going on in the curves department was an enormous cystic pimple on her chin that hurt when she touched it. Yeah, no.</p><p>J: Like for real?</p><p>S: Yeah</p><p>At the Saloon</p><p>where your friends go often</p><p>and you met your other friend</p><p>Jude smiled at the mention of them being friends. But she also couldn’t tell if this was some kind of test. If she admitted to wanting to see him would that be disappointing?</p><p>She wrote:</p><p>No?</p><p>He responded immediately.</p><p>RIGHT?</p><p>Whew. Correct response. So why did she feel so . . . sad?</p><p>J: And ruin this?</p><p>She mashed the spoon into the Cheeto. It probably wasn’t disappointment she was feeling, but GI distress. Between the hardened protein bars in her belly and this trash, she might never poop again.</p><p>Srsly</p><p>Feels sooooo good to be in our respective metal boxes</p><p>#sealed</p><p>#safe</p><p>Free from the mortal coil</p><p>S: Yeah</p><p>What you said</p><p>Lol</p><p>J: So yeah no IRL for me</p><p>Why break the fourth wall?</p><p>S: No point</p><p>We’re perfect in here</p><p>It was true. Everything outside of the box was a mess. Jude’s “un-here” was no good. She shimmied off her bra with her clean hand and flung it onto her bed.</p><p>J: If I could be perfect in here</p><p>And in my farming</p><p>I think I’d be satisfied</p><p>Is that pathetic?</p><p>S: Nope</p><p>AGREED</p><p>I think you only get to be good at</p><p>two things at once</p><p>J: Do you think we spend too much time talking and not enough working?</p><p>He took a minute to answer.</p><p>Probably</p><p>Jude smiled.</p><p>J: You have to find your movies</p><p>S: And you have to work on the farm</p><p>J: Maybe you only get to have one thing at once</p><p>S: Lol</p><p>Probably</p><p>J: What if this is our one thing?</p><p>Lol</p><p>S: What like texting?</p><p>J: Yeah</p><p>Maybe this is what we’re good at</p><p>S: I’m not mad</p><p>Phones rule</p><p>J: Humans drool</p><p>Lol</p><p>S: We’re the best</p><p>J: This is the best</p><p>And it was.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>After lunch, Sebastian slipped out of the house early and borrowed Willy’s car</p><p>He pulled up to the Zuzu city Workforce Commission. The government office was covered with prairie oaks. It was shaded and featured a poured concrete ledge in front of the building with two metal handrails that were magnets for skate rats. As long as the kids didn’t break stuff, drink, or try to catch tags on the property, the cops rarely messed with them.</p><p>Sebastian saw three boys dicking around on their skateboards. The smallest, a goofy-footed kid with chin-length straight hair nose-slid down the eleven-stair handrail. He had the ballsy, wiry, little-dude confidence that comes from a low center of gravity, moving as if he knew exactly what every part of his body was doing. Sebastian watched the other two, larger boys, attempt noncommittal backside shuvits and bailed kickflips, spending more time retrieving boards than riding away clean.</p><p>Sebastian remembered when he was their age and the city first put the new handrails in. It had been the big news in his crew for weeks. Most of the skaters with money, the kids with the fresh setups and new shoes every month, frequented dedicated skate parks that had started springing up. But these three boys were recognizably just as poor as he’d been. One had a board with a chipped tail that was plugged with peanut-buttery wood filler and sanded down, and even from a distance Sebastian could see their socks through the ollie holes in their soles. </p><p>Sebastian had been out here a couple times over the last few weeks. It was only ever the three of them, and there was something about the littlest one that was transfixing. He flung himself down the stairs repeatedly, as sure-footed as a bug.</p><p>Sebastian got out and walked over to them.</p><p>The three scowled as if to ward off a predator or undercover cop. With a dirty towel draped over his head and a cigarette dangling from his mouth, the youngest boy resembled those child soldiers you saw on Vice docs—with that thousand-yard stare that’s extra haunted on a kid’s face.</p><p>“Relax, I’m not a cop,” Sebastian said. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.</p><p>“Yo, let me get a smoke,” said the kid, reaching toward him.</p><p>“You’ve already got one,” said Sebastian.</p><p>“Let me hold it for later though.” He flashed a wide grin, cigarette bobbing up.</p><p>The two other boys flanked him as if they were his backup. Sebastian felt conflicted about giving a child tobacco. Then he figured he’d be getting it elsewhere. Sebastian handed it over, and the kid tucked the loosie behind his ear.</p><p>“I seen you,” said the ringleader as he grabbed a lighter out of the back pocket of his filthy jeans and started playing with it. “Always wearing the same shit. You’re not some kind of emo child molester, right?”</p><p>Sebastian laughed and shook his head. “What child molester would tell a kid he was a child molester though?”</p><p>The kid laughed. “True.”</p><p>“What’s your name? It’s not Lester, is it?” The kid smirked again. “Last name molester.” His friends chortled on cue.</p><p>“Sebastian,” said Sebastian. “I used to skate here back when I was around your age.”</p><p>“What’s up, Sebastian? I’m Nic. This is James”—he pointed at the shorter of the two boys, with slicked-back hair—“and Rico.” Rico nodded and cracked his knuckles. Sebastian nodded, stifling a smile. They were cartoon goons.</p><p>He thought about what Jude would do if he had brought her as his backup. Probably stare at them combatively, asking invasive questions. And confusing them later by offering Band-Aids and Neosporin from her kit as needed.</p><p>This morning she’d coached him on how to approach them.</p><p>J: None of this matters</p><p>We’re all biding time until we die anyway</p><p>S: He’s probably bored</p><p>Kids get bored</p><p>J: Go unbore him</p><p>“So anyway,” he said. “I don’t skate as much now because I’m a documentary filmmaker.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Self-Disclosure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's strange. A lot of the time you don't register the important moments in your life as they happen. You only see that they were important when you look back.</p><p>Sebastian tells Jude something he's been holding in.<br/>Jude's mom visits her and things don't go the way she thought they would.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>J: My mom’s coming</p><p>It was 8:42 a.m. on a Saturday, perfect time to bring up topics she’d been avoiding for months.</p><p>S: Is that good or bad</p><p>J: Suboptimal</p><p>S: Not a fan?</p><p>J: Nope</p><p>S: Me neither</p><p>*Of mine</p><p>J: Why?</p><p>S: You go first</p><p>Jude always had to go first.</p><p>J: No you</p><p>Sebastian went first:</p><p>S: My mom wasn't meant to have been a mom</p><p>S: At least not mine</p><p>J: Why?</p><p>S: She’s not a fan of me and an alcoholic</p><p>J: Whoa</p><p>S: Yeah</p><p>J: Sucks</p><p>S: Yeah</p><p>J: What else?</p><p>S: Isn’t that enough?</p><p>J: You tell me</p><p>S: I think she hates me</p><p>J: She doesn’t hate you</p><p>Jude wrote before she thought about it. What the hell did she know? Some moms eat their young. Some do it without meaning to.</p><p>S: Hate’s a strong word but I don’t think it’s too far off tbh</p><p>K your turn</p><p>Lol</p><p>J: It’s so early for momtalk</p><p>Sorry</p><p>S: No tell me</p><p>J: Mine makes me sad</p><p>S: Why?</p><p>J: She thinks I’m GREAT</p><p>S: Tough crowd</p><p>J: She wants to do everything together</p><p>S: And?</p><p>J: I’m a huge disappointment</p><p>S: How?</p><p>J: We’re sooooo different</p><p>My mom wants to be besties</p><p>we’re not</p><p>AT ALL</p><p>The whole thing is so sad</p><p>It bums me out to think about</p><p>S: Oof</p><p>Are you gonna be ok?</p><p>She wondered if she would be. Tara set her off so easily. Jude didn’t have the energy for Tara, with her hugeness and her sucking-up-all-the-air-in-a-room-ness. Her mom monopolized her life so completely, and Jude was only just getting her footing in a life that was hers alone. Hers and her phone’s.</p><p>God.</p><p>Honestly, if Jude had to choose between saving a puppy or her phone from an oncoming train, she’d lunge for the phone, and that was awful. The line that separated her phone from Sebastian was becoming increasingly blurred. Sebastian was her phone and her phone was Sebastian. Her rose-gold friend-pal in its little black outfit.</p><p>Whoa. Shit.</p><p>It wasn’t a romance; it was too perfect for that. With texts there were only the words and none of the awkwardness. They could get to know each other completely and get comfortable before they had to do anything unnecessarily overwhelming like look at each other’s eyeballs with their eyeballs.</p><p>With Sebastian in her pocket, she wasn’t ever alone. But sometimes it wasn’t enough. Jude knew she should be grateful, yet there this was niggling hope, this aggravating notion running constantly in the background of her operating system, that one day Sebastian would think about her and decide, “To hell with all these other chicks I meet every day who are hot, not scared of sex, and are rocket scientists when it comes to flirting, I choose you, Jude. You have an inventive, not-at-all-gross way with snacks, and your spelling is top-notch.”</p><p>Jude was looking at her phone when the screen lit up in her hand.</p><p>It was a call.</p><p>From Sebastian.</p><p>Whoa.</p><p>Jude quietly got out of bed, and went into the bathroom.</p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>His voice was deep, as if he’d just woken up.</p><p>“Hi?”</p><p>Jude cleared her throat. “You called me.”</p><p>She heard him laugh.</p><p>Jude ran the shower, as if the room were bugged.</p><p>“I’m aware of that.”</p><p>“Why the escalation?” she asked him.</p><p>He laughed again. Jude had no idea why she worded it like that.</p><p>“I mean, why’d you call?”</p><p>“You didn’t answer me.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Jude’s heart was hammering. She sat on the floor.</p><p>“I asked if you were okay. You didn’t respond. I became momentarily worried.”</p><p>“Oh, sorry. Yeah, I’m fine. I was thinking about momstuff.”</p><p>“Well, it’s the responsibility of the emergency contact to inquire.”</p><p>“I’m going to be honest with you: The rules of emergency contacts continue to evade me.”</p><p>He laughed again. Jude smiled so hard it broke her face.</p><p>“Moms are rough.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Jude thought how satisfying it would be to introduce Sebastian to Tara as her boyfriend. He had so many tattoos. In fact, the only upside to Abigail being pregnant is that it would scandalize Tara that Jude’s boyfriend was a dad. For all her “I’m a cool mom” posturing, Tara wanted Jude comfortably settled with someone like Alex.</p><p>“I’ve been avoiding her since I got here,” she said. “I feel kinda bad about it.” She adjusted the shower water so she wouldn’t waste so much of it.</p><p>“I haven’t really spoken to my mom in a while either, it's a bit strange.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>They sat in silence for a bit.</p><p>“What’s yours called?” </p><p>“Tara”</p><p>“What’s a Tara like?”</p><p>“Well, her birthday’s coming up. That’s a whole thing. There was this one year she accidentally double booked dates with two different guys. While she was out to dinner, the second dude came to the house and I thought he was a murderer. Good times.”</p><p>Sebastian laughed.</p><p>“How is that not the plot of an eighties movie?”</p><p>“I felt bad. I made the guy wait in his car and he had these flowers. It was the worst.”</p><p>“When was this?”</p><p>“It was before she had a cell phone, so I was eight?”</p><p>“And you didn’t have a sitter?”</p><p>Jude tried to think about the last time she had a sitter. They didn’t really do that at her house.</p><p>“Let’s just say when I was little and my mom was out, I’d go to bed with a ketchup bottle.”</p><p>“I already love this story so much. . . .”</p><p>“It was a foolproof plan. If the bad guys came in I could douse myself and they wouldn’t kill me because I was already dead.”</p><p>“Jesus, I can’t tell if that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard or the absolute most sad.”</p><p>“Both?”</p><p>“God, I keep picturing tiny you in the dark frantically hitting the fifty-seven on the Heinz bottle and it not coming out.”</p><p>Jude laughed.</p><p>“I guess it’s cute and sad. What about Robin? Any cute-sads to share?”</p><p>“Well, Robin had this thing . . .”</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>Sebastian didn’t know why he called. Only that he wanted to talk to her, like, actually talk to her, and more importantly, he wanted to hear her.</p><p>He hadn’t planned on bringing up his mom. He certainly hadn’t intended to divulge the story of the Worst Night and Morning of His Life. But Jude asked and he wanted to answer.</p><p>“What about Robin? Any cute-sads to share?”</p><p>Sebastian loved hearing Jude’s voice and the deep scratchy way she laughed. But, man, he should’ve peed before he called. Instead he settled onto his side and drew the comforter up. He felt as if he were at a sleepover. </p><p>“Well, Robin had this thing where she loved nothing more than drinking wine and playing confessions, mostly she'd just bounce off her frustrations of other people”</p><p>That night—the Worst Night and Morning of Sebastian’s Life—Sebastian and Abigail were torched on gin martinis. He’d suspected she was cheating on him, only he didn’t have proof past a gut feeling. He figured, stupidly, that a night in the city would be romantic, but then he ran out of cash. Sebastian headed home to pick up a few things, prize among them a small, stemmy stash of weed he’d left in his sock drawer and some money he'd saved for a rainy day, figuring they'd spend the night at a cheap hotel in the city when they went back after like they always did.</p><p>When Sebastian opened the door to his place, he was taken aback by the mess, glass, papers and utensils all over the place. He didn’t want to bring Abigail in except that she needed to pee.</p><p>“Heya, Robiiiiiiin,” sang Abigail, peeking from behind the door as she walked in. She burst out laughing when his mother glared at them from her chair in the front room. It had been weeks since Sebastian had seen her like this, and he was startled by the disarray. He wondered where Maru was and if she was safe, why Demetrius hadn't bothered to stop his mom from drinking and getting this way.</p><p>Coming home after a night out had been a bad idea. Abby was wearing a bra as a shirt, and Sebastian’s embarrassment for everyone ignited into a bright white rage. When he slid on a collection of photographs, which made Abigail cackle again, he snatched them up to discover they were of him and his father, the only ones that he had. Torn to shreds not enough tape in the world could ever salvage them.</p><p>“She’d started drinking again after a fight with Demetrius and it somehow always turned back to my dad and how he'd made her 'damaged goods',” he said.</p><p>“Jesus.”</p><p>“I never understood why she'd blamed him so much for leaving, he wasn't a good father or husband. . good anything but she was always angry and a lot of the time she faulted me for it too.” He cringed as he said it.</p><p>Jude didn’t answer. She didn’t have to</p><p>“My mom's been going to AA meetings,” he said. “I don't really know if it will stick this time.”</p><p>“People have their own demons.”</p><p>Sebastian wished he could see Jude’s face. Though if it had registered pity or . . . disgust . . . it would’ve destroyed some part of him. Abigail dumped him the morning after.</p><p>“She'd gone into my room and had just thrown everything in sight,” he continued. “She said it was my fault. It was demented. I couldn’t stop yelling. I wanted to shake her or push her. I was so drunk and so mad. . . .” Tears dampened his pillow.</p><p>“Did you shake her?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Did you push her?”</p><p>Sebastian wiped his nose on his shirt.</p><p>“No. I thought for a second I was going to hurt her though. It’s why I left. I haven’t spoken to her since, not really anyway, it's like living with a stranger. Also, it’s why I don’t drink anymore. I don’t drink anymore, at least not really,” he added, thinking about Abigail and their last hurrah.</p><p>Sebastian sat up, his nose was blocked. Shit.</p><p>He’d called her to cheer her up and now he was crying. Jude was like Sodium Pentothal to the jugular. He couldn’t stop telling her his worst truths. It was horrifying.</p><p>Jude was silent.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said. Sebastian felt depleted. Ragged.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“I don’t know where that came from. I called to see if you were okay.” He laughed dryly. “I genuinely thought I was going to tell you something profound and reassuring about the human condition or something. What a spaz, right?”</p><p>“We’re all spazzes.”</p><p>Sebastian nodded glumly. <em>Uuuuuuuugh.</em> He wanted to die of embarrassment.</p><p>“You probably needed to tell someone for a while, and I’m glad it was me. And, whatever, maybe you were right.”</p><p>“About what?”</p><p>“This is probably how emergency contacts work. You say something to your person before you go nuts and blow a gasket.”</p><p>“God forbid anyone has a panic attack,” he said.</p><p>She laughed. “Exactly.”</p><p>“So . . .”</p><p>“So.”</p><p>“As I was saying . . .”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>She laughed again. “Yes. Thank you for asking. Are you okay?”</p><p>“Me? I’m fucking fantastic.”</p><p>“You win, you know.”</p><p>“At being fantastic?”</p><p>“No. You won the mom-off this round.”</p><p>Sebastian laughed.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>Phone calls. Who knew phone calls were so intense? Jude thought about what Sebastian had told her. About Robin. The pictures. Sebastian trusted her. That was a big deal. Progress had been made. Not that she and Sebastian were trying to get anywhere specific. Or that phone calls necessarily led to hand-holding, which led to make-outs and dates and marriage and kids, but somewhere, somehow, a needle had been moved. Sebastian really trusted her, and she felt lucky for it.</p><p>They were getting closer. It was the best feeling in the world.</p><p>With Sebastian’s call, it was as if the best part of her day had already happened. As Jude showered, she wondered if her mother would see a change in her, if she appeared more worldly or something. Then again, Jude used to stare at her mom, silent-screaming about the bad things that had happened, and Tara never got a clue.</p><p>She wiped down the foggy mirror. Jude never looked the way she thought she did in her head, like how your recorded voice sounds positively vile when you hear it out loud. She applied some of her mom’s lipstick and smiled as if she were posing for a picture. Was this her new life? Would she and Sebastian be calling each other now? She loved the interface—how they could tell each other anything on text, from silly trivial things to deep truths—and hoped that part would still happen. She’d bought an app that saved a copy of everything they’d said. Phone calls though . . . Oh man. They were something else. So heart-squishingly intimate. She could almost feel his breath when he laughed. Jude wished she could stay in that call forever.</p><p>“Is she tiny like you? Does she dress cool or super mommish?” Sam was dying to meet Tara, so they walked to the bus stop together, she'd park her car there so it was easier to leave afterwards. It was a source of great curiosity that while Penny lived with her mother and Sam’s mom had invited her to dinner more often than she could count on both hands, Jude’s mom, who at an hour away by car, remained a mystery.</p><p>Tara was both easy and hard to explain. Jude thought about her first day of kindergarten. Even at a young age, she was mortified that her mom had required so much extra face time from her teacher.</p><p>She recalled the way her teacher smiled with eyes widened over her mom’s shoulder at the other parents. The way that she—despite being younger than her—patted Tara on the arm as she sniffled. None of the other parents were crying. Not to mention how Tara had worn these completely incorrect tie-dyed tennis shorts and had dyed her socks to match. The worst was during recess when Jude saw her mom standing outside the school gates. Spying on her. She’d spotted her mom’s frothy permed hairdo crouching conspicuously behind the bus stop. At one point Tara bought a popsicle and sat on the bus bench to eat it, as if she’d forgotten what she was doing there in the first place.</p><p>“She’s fun,” said Jude. “We’re nothing alike. Everybody loves her.”</p><p>As if on cue, Tara arrived. In white jeans, blinding-white sneaker-heels, a white tank top with silver writing on it, and gobs of silver jewelry. It wasn’t Tara’s fault that she resembled a reality-show stage mom with questionable judgment straight from central casting.</p><p>“Oooooh!” said Sam in a tone that implied that it finally made sense. “Your mom’s hot.”</p><p>“Yep,” said Jude.</p><p>“Explains a lot.”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“Mom!” Jude called out.</p><p>“J!” Tara swiveled around and ran toward her with her arms outstretched for a bear hug. Jude laughed.</p><p>Her mom stepped back for a quick audit of her daughter’s appearance.</p><p>“Awww, baby. You look terrific.”</p><p>“You too, Mom.” She really did.</p><p>“Hi, Mrs. Weller.” Sam smiled.</p><p>“Come here.” Tara pulled him in for a hug. “I’ve heard so much about you.”</p><p>Tara was a smooth liar.</p><p>“And call me Tara.”</p><p>“Sure thing, Tara,” said Sam, smiling. “And I know you haven’t heard squat about me because I know absolutely nothing about you.” Sam linked his arms with Tara, and the two walked ahead towards Jude's place. “Tell me everything. Jude’s a regular Fort Knox.”</p><p>Jude followed behind them.</p><p>Tara and Sam chatted easily. Neither of them had inside voices, and Jude was relieved that there wasn't anyone else around.</p><p>“So, Mom,” said Jude. “You’re here. What do you want to do?”</p><p>“I want to spend time with you for my birthday.” Tara smiled at Sam. “I’m turning the big four-oh in four traumatizing weeks.”</p><p>“Libra?” asked Sam.</p><p>“Scorpio cusp!”</p><p>“Cancer!” said Sam.</p><p>Tara and Sam high-fived.</p><p>Jude realized the astonishing truth that she’d simply given up one crazy for another. She checked her phone. No new messages after Sebastian told her he was helping Gus at the Saloon for the day. </p><p>She unlocked the door to her place and invited her mother in. “This is me.”</p><p>It was simple, nothing like her mom's place back home but that's the way she wanted it to be. There wasn't much for decoration but a small framed picture of her and her mother that had been packed inside her suitcase until forty minutes earlier. Jude was glad she’d remembered to dig it out and place it on her dresser.</p><p>After a quick tour of the town and introducing Tara to Mayor Lewis and having to sit through a couple of stories he had of when he and her grandfather were younger the three of them were a bit peckish.</p><p>“What do you want? I could grab some groceries and we can have a nice lunch at your place hun?” Tara asked them.</p><p>“I need a coffee before we do anything else though,” said Tara, as they walked around the mayor's front garden.</p><p>Jude didn’t hear it so much as she watched Sam’s mouth move in slow motion: “Coffee? Let's go to the Saloon.”</p><p>Shitshitshitshitshit.</p><p>Up until this point, Jude had been on her best behavior. She’d held a Zen master’s peace in her heart and allowed Sam and Tara to tease her habits, how she only ever wore black and never showed her figure. Jude understood that it was great that her friend and her mom were getting along even if the two of them together were a vaudeville act.</p><p>Jude felt her soul escape her body.</p><p>“Coffee? What? Don’t be crazy, Mom. You’ll be up all night,” said Jude, with increasing hysteria.</p><p>“Jude,” said Sam. “Your mom is almost forty. I’m sure she can handle a midafternoon latte” he smiled at her.</p><p>Jude’s throat tightened. She took inventory of what was happening around her.</p><p>Possible measures to derail a horribly inopportune Sebastian encounter:</p><p>1. Crap. She had nothing.</p><p>“So, my friend is working at this place today,” continued Sam. </p><p>“Ooooh, is he cute?” asked Tara. Jude was going to be sick.</p><p>She pulled out her phone to check her appearance. Her sunblock had turned into a crumbly powder on her forehead. She licked her fingers and desperately tried to smooth it in. Plus, as luck would have it, Jude hadn’t done laundry in a month and was dressed in ratty black leggings and a Willie Nelson T-shirt that read HAVE A WILLIE NICE DAY. It was 2XL and she’d got it six years ago. She’d had an outfit planned on the off chance that she’d see Sebastian again. It involved a black ruffle skirt and some ankle boots with a heel. Maybe she’d get a blowout. That was her fantasy.</p><p>This was not how she wanted to see him after their morning call.</p><p>Jude breathed deep. She considered texting Sebastian a warning, except what would she even say? When they walked up to the door of the Saloon, Jude wanted to cry.</p><p>“Wait. Hold on,” she blurted.</p><p>Jude pulled out her lipstick.</p><p>“Oh, honey,” said Tara. “I knew you’d love it.”</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>The Saloon on the weekends was a different scene—a bizarro brunch world of the locals instead of the usual one or two everyday regulars. Sebastian was hunched over the counter. The morning felt like forever ago. Or as if it happened to someone else. There was no accounting for why he unlatched his neck and disgorged his ugliest stories on Jude at once. He’d called her under the guise of being some knight in shining armor, and then, yeah, he’d barfed on her.</p><p>He thumbed through an old newspaper. He flipped to the classifieds, the usual mix of penis enlargement ads and moonlighting masseurs. Man, when Gus had asked him to fill in for him today he expected less of a crowd.</p><p>Sebastian wanted to tell Jude everything. He wanted a record of his thoughts and feelings and stories to exist with her. Like a time capsule for this strange period of his life. With her, he felt less lonely. He hadn’t even realized he was lonely. He hadn’t let himself. It's strange. A lot of the time you don't register the important moments in your life as they happen. You only see that they were important when you look back.</p><p>“Sebastian!”</p><p>It was Sam. Hearing his sunnily disposed friend call his name filled Sebastian with a rush of guilt. Had they made plans? Behind him was a flashy woman and . . . Jude. Jude. Actual Jude. He’d remembered her hair accurately. How wild it was, as if you could root around in it for treasure.</p><p>He ran his fingers through his own hair. It was greasy. He took off his old-man glasses that he’d bought off a drugstore carousel. They magnified his eyes in the dorkiest way.</p><p>“Hey,” he said. Sebastian concentrated on staring right at Sam and partially at the other lady and not at all at Jude. He didn’t want to openly ogle her. Sam bounded over and hugged him.</p><p>“You remember my friend, right?” he said, gesturing to Jude.</p><p>“Uh, yeah.” He couldn’t avoid it any longer. He looked. Absorbed her. The visuals were coming at him fast. The angle of her cheekbones. The tilt of her chin. The flash of gray fingernails. There was a wiggly strand of hair that fell over her left eye. Her eye that was looking at him. He stored the details as quickly as he could. She was wearing the same bright red lipstick she’d worn last time.</p><p>“Hey, Jude.” He smiled. Wide. Stupidly. “You okay?”</p><p>“Oh, fantastic,” she said. The voice was so good. Deep like on the phone. Maybe deeper. As if her text bubbles had spent a late night in a speakeasy. Jude tucked her hair behind her ear and blushed hard.</p><p>“And this is Jude’s mom, Tara.”</p><p>Before Sebastian knew it, Tara came in for a perfumed hug. She smelled of singed cotton candy and flowers.</p><p>“Whoa,” he said reflexively, jolting back when he felt the heave of her bust on his chest.</p><p>Tara laughed. “I guess you’re about as into physical contact as my kid is,” she said.</p><p>Sebastian watched Jude tense up at the mention of “kid” and felt a pang of sympathy. Knowing her as well as he did at this point, she’d want to be struck by lightning right about now.</p><p>He cleared his throat. Sebastian wanted to text her, partly to make fun of her and partly to say this was going way better than it had any right to.</p><p>“Sam tells me you’ve got the best iced coffee and the most delicious pastries.” Tara peered into the display case. “I read a write-up on this place.”</p><p>“Well,” said Sebastian, “they do their baking on the premises and . . .”</p><p>“Wonderful,” Tara cooed.</p><p>“Actually, Sebastian’s being modest,” said Sam. “He did the baking today. He's actually a really good baker, I keep telling him he should go to school for it and become the next Julia Child.”</p><p>Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair again before wiping his hands on the back of his jeans.</p><p>“Just a regular Guy Fieri,” Jude mumbled. Sebastian smiled.</p><p>“Um,” he said. “I wish I’d known you guys were coming. I would have made something . . .”</p><p>He busied himself with surveying the remaining muffins and cookies.</p><p>“The cookies are pretty good, and the last remaining lemon bar is worth digging into.” Sebastian grabbed a piece of tissue and pulled it out.</p><p>“Jude loves lemon bars, don’t you, baby,” said Tara.</p><p>“Sure,” she said. Sebastian could hear the eye roll in her voice.</p><p>“Lemon bars are pie-adjacent,” he said, quietly stealing a glance at her. A slight grimace played on her lips. “I wish I’d thought to make a sheet cake.”</p><p>He was rewarded with a smile then. A real one.</p><p>“It probably depends on the crust you’re using,” said Tara. “I have a great recipe that uses vodka. You know, so you can get your sugar high with a little kick.” She laughed at her own joke. A forced monosyllabic “ha.” Like a cymbal.</p><p>Sebastian smiled politely. The type of person who couldn’t let a drinking reference pass them by was a very specific sort of person.</p><p>“You seem tired,” Sam told him.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he said. “Listen, I’m sorry I’ve been flaky about dinner.”</p><p>“Oh, Sebastian, don’t fret.” Sam leaned over and rubbed his shoulder. “At least the coffee’s free and plentiful.” he smirked at him</p><p>“So, it’s an iced coffee for you and for you . . . Tara, was it?”</p><p>“An iced coffee for me too, and for Jude. With almond milk if you have it. She’s lactose intolerant.”</p><p>Jude stared straight at the ceiling.</p><p>Jude is lactose intolerant. He filed it in his head.</p><p>“God, I’ve been hanging out with you this whole time and you’ve never mentioned it,” exclaimed Sam.</p><p>“Shocking,” said Tara. “You know, it took me two months to find out she had a boyfriend. Can you believe that?”</p><p>Boyfriend?</p><p>Jude has a boyfriend. He filed that into the folder too. With a little red sticky label. A boyfriend she hadn’t once thought to bring up? She was a vault. Sebastian wondered what the punk looked like. He willed her to meet his eyes, only she kept her attention firmly on her hands</p><p>“Mom,” said Jude darkly.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Sebastian was mentally texting her again. Considering the words that would elicit the most information about this boyfriend without betraying his annoyance at being kept in the dark. Then again, apparently nobody knew a goddamned thing about Jude.</p><p>Tara took out her wallet. It was neon pink, fuzzy, and stuffed to the gills. The coin purse attached to the side bellowed out completely, the metallic leather crinkling under duress. It was as much a conversation starter as Tara was. Jude glared at it, horrified.</p><p>“I love your wallet. It’s adorable.” said Sam smiling wide</p><p>“Thanks! I just got it,” she said</p><p>Tara radiated with pleasure.</p><p>Sebastian’s heart warmed toward Tara then. And Sam, who could fill any awkward moment with a bracing surge of good cheer.</p><p>“Please, Tara,” said Sebastian. “Put that away. It’s on me.”</p><p>Tara clucked and pointedly stuck a ten-dollar bill in the tip jar, holding his gaze.</p><p>Sebastian made their drinks and a plate of treats and led them toward his favorite couch in the back and excused himself. He texted Jude on his way back to the counter.</p><p>Wow</p><p>Why the escalation lol?</p><p>You good?</p><p>Moments later Jude walked over alone.</p><p>“You forgot my almond milk,” she said. She smiled. He cheesed back. He knew his outsized canines gave him the air of a starved mutt, but he couldn’t contain himself. He nodded at her shirt.</p><p>“I Willie did,” he said.</p><p>“Dick,” she said, smiling.</p><p>“I’m more a Waylon Jennings man myself,” he continued, grabbing the almond milk from the fridge under the counter. He sniffed it and poured some into a small metal creamer. He handed it to her with the handle pointing toward her so their fingers wouldn’t touch.</p><p>“This is a lot,” she breathed. “It’s nice to see you, Sebastian.” She practically whispered it, and Sebastian couldn’t deny the pleasantly warming effect of her saying his name.</p><p>He cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his back pockets. His left hand collided with his glasses. Ugh. Worst glasses ever. He couldn’t believe she’d seen him in them. Not that it mattered. Seeing as she had a boyfriend (!!!) but still.</p><p>“Need anything else?”</p><p>“Napkins,” she said, grabbing a few by the register. “Thanks for being nice to my mom.”</p><p>“Sure,” he said. “So that’s your mom.”</p><p>“I can’t believe you’re you,” she said at the same time.</p><p>“We’re going to have to workshop the shit out of this tonight,” he said, laughing. “I might have to call you again.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope the phone call didn't confuse anyone as to who was saying what.<br/>Anyway this is my last written chapter for now, I will be continuing updating gradually I hope you still come back to read it then.<br/>Thank you for following along thus far and I hope to get the next chapter up in about two weeks or so.<br/>Lots of love from Bash &amp; Jude!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Lost Boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jude is left wondering why Sebastian hasn't called her yet.<br/>Sebastian gets news that leaves him feeling lost again.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>Dinner was sushi someplace in the city downtown, where she ordered tuna rolls that tasted like sawdust. While she picked at them, her mother and friend discussed topics so titillating that Jude couldn’t recall any of them save one—Sebastian.</p><p>Jude counted the minutes until the Tara Show was over and she could call him. He’d distinctly said he was going to call her, which indicated it was also a green light to call him. It wasn’t as if they worried about who texted who last, so interface rules likely applied to calls, too.</p><p>“I wish he’d confide in me,” said Sam, reaching over her to snag a piece of salmon from her mom’s plate. Jude marveled at how quickly her friend and her mother had progressed to the food-sharing stage of their relationship. “He looks terrible and he keeps blowing me off. I don’t think he’s eating or sleeping. I hope it’s not drugs.”</p><p>Jude didn’t think Sebastian looked terrible at all. In fact, he looked dreamy. Perfect. She hadn’t known he wore glasses and Jude was crazy about glasses as a thing. They were so much better than contacts. Why touch your own eyeballs when you could accessorize your face? So what now? If Sebastian had called and Jude had doubled down and seen him in person—even if it was an accident—what did this mean? Everything was messy now. It was all Sam and Tara’s fault. Why hadn’t Sebastian called? They’d left the Saloon three hours ago.</p><p>“Maybe it’s a girl,” said Tara, pouring another round of sake. Jude’s mom didn’t think the tiny cups qualified as underage drinking. Sam clinked his glass to Tara’s, then Jude’s, and downed it. “Maybe,” said Sam. “His ex is insane.” He pulled out his phone. “Whatever’s making him so withdrawn has to do with her. Get a load of this.” Sam pulled up MzAbbyXO. Jude had taken great pains not to search for Sebastian’s ex after the last time, but if someone else was cruise directing. . .</p><p>“Wait, stop.” Tara took control of the phone. “There’s a video.”</p><p>Jude held her breath. She had no idea how she’d missed it.</p><p>It was Sebastian peering into the camera. The background was noisy with voices and music—a party. He was smiling. Slowly. Sexily. He took a sip of beer and leaned in. “What did I tell you?” said Video Sebastian. “What?” objected a girl’s voice off-screen. “Why do you get to do it if I can’t?” she asked. He grabbed the phone and held it aloft, the two of their heads framed in selfie mode. He had dark hair and dark eyes; her hair was practically white and her eyes were pale. They were beautiful together. “Happy?” he asked. She smiled and nodded. With his other hand he grabbed her chin and kissed her roughly.</p><p>Jesus.</p><p>“See, they were goals,” said Sam solemnly.</p><p>“No wonder he’s preoccupied,” said Tara. “I don’t think you get over this type of a girl.” Tara ordered another sake.</p><p>“I bet she’s mean,” said Jude, apropos of nothing. Well, nothing other than how Sam and Tara were practically pulling her guts out of her butt and making friendship bracelets with them.</p><p>“That kind of girl only gets more desirable the meaner they are,” said Tara. She sighed dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m turning forty.”</p><p>Jude glared at her mother. She knew what Tara was thinking. She was comparing herself to Abby. Any talk of desirable women reminded her mother of herself.</p><p>What was that like?</p><p>After dinner they headed back to Pelican town, Tara dropped Sam off and they returned to Jude's place for some ice cream and alone time.</p><p>“I love Sam,” said Tara. They decided to go by the playground and sit on a bench near the fountain with their cones. It was beautiful when it was lit up at night. Downright romantic. “He’s so handsome and funny,” she continued.</p><p>“Everyone loves Sam,” said Jude. “And he loved you. I think he’s serious about coming to your birthday party.”</p><p>“Oh, good,” she said. “I hope you’re coming too.”</p><p>Jude rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Mom,” she said. “Of course I’m coming.”</p><p>Jude knew she was being a jerk, except Tara could be so extra with her neediness.</p><p>“Well, I hope so,” Tara said. “You haven’t been home since you left. We’ve talked maybe twice in two months.”</p><p>“Seven weeks.” Jude bit into her sorbet angrily. She wished her mom would go home. She wished her mom hadn’t come and forced her to see Sebastian at her ugliest, and mentioned her freaking <em>'boyfriend'</em> when she knew nothing about anything, and then bulldozed her into watching that video.</p><p>“You know what I mean,” said Tara. “It hurts my feelings. I was worried. You go days without calling me back. Not a peep. I mean, you lucked out with Sam. I’m less worried to know that you’re friends with a guy who’s so social and sweet, seeing as you can be so . . .”</p><p>“What, Mom? Antisocial and poisonous?” Jude shouted, proving her mom’s point. She stomped up to the fountain ahead of her.</p><p>“That’s not what I said.” Jude watched her mom eye her dessert for the perfect bite, and she could tell by her distracted expression that Tara was liable to say something truly offensive.</p><p>Jude stared at the shimmering waters and looked up at the night sky. She wondered if the bats were out.</p><p>“It’s just that's your thing, you know, that thing you do can be tough in these situations,” she said. “Alienating. You’re either talking a mile a minute with these ten-dollar words or your eyes are darting all over the place. I know you didn’t have a lot of friends in high school, and lately, I don’t know, baby . . . And what’s going on with you and Mark? Last week he posted a picture of him and another girl. . . .”</p><p>Jude walked away and threw her cone in the trash. Her foul mood worsened.</p><p>“Pictures of Mark?”   *<span class="u">(her ex that she dated before leaving the city)</span>*</p><p>“Well, honey, he and I are Facebook friends,” said Tara. “Now, I know you don’t love that, but I’d called so many times and texted, and I wanted to know how things were . . .”</p><p>Tara touched her arm with an outrageously sappy expression.</p><p>“Is he cheating on you? I messaged him to say hi and gather intel, and you know, he never wrote me back. Is everything okay between you two?”</p><p>Tara licked her cone again. She had sushi seaweed stuck in her front tooth. Jude couldn’t believe her mom had the gall to message her ex-boyfriend. It was mortifying. Tara was out of control. And Sebastian still hadn’t called. Not even a text.</p><p>Jude had never been more frustrated in her entire life.</p><p>So, of course, she burst into tears.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>Sebastian opened his eyes. His phone was lodged between his cheek and his mattress, optimally positioned for face-cancer transmission. He grabbed it. The screen was black and inert. He lifted his cumbersome, seemingly sand-filled head to see where his charger was. The room swung. His eyes narrowed on the tiny white cube clear across the floor. It might as well have been across the Gem sea. Never mind that plugging the cord into the tiny hole on his phone would be about as easy as refueling a jet engine in midflight.</p><p>“Why?” he asked the empty room. He wished someone would at least come over and turn out his light. Maybe pass him the bottle of Wild Turkey that he’d left by the door. Actually, no. He didn’t want that at all.</p><p>His phone was dead. At least he noticed when his phone died. If Sebastian died no one would care. He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes while the room sloshed around him. Thank God he was home. He might have been an idiot, but at least he’d had the foresight to keep his freak-out contained. He took off his shirt. Then he kicked off his stiff pants like a petulant child.</p><p>Sebastian wanted to take a bath. Actually, what he needed was someone to bathe him.</p><p>It was still dark out, and the house was quiet. Sebastian stood up, steadying himself against the wall as the blood flooded out of his head. He grabbed his towel and pushed off the wall by the mattress and stumbled to lean on the wall by the charger. He was an inelegant trapeze artist. Spider-Man three sheets to the wind. It took him a few tries before he eventually got his phone set up. </p><p>Sebastian tipped his head up and gawped at the popcorn stucco before grabbing the doorframe for support. He wondered if there was asbestos in the ceiling silently killing him. A hot tear slid down his cheek.</p><p>So that was it. He and Abigail were properly over. Huzzah and good night.</p><p>As he’d learned yesterday (and bless any day that you learn something new) there was such a thing in the world as a chemical pregnancy. A knocked-up limbo. There’d been enough hormones (HCG, Sebastian had researched it later) in Abigail’s pee to trip a few sticks and that was it. Liar had miscarried only technically since she’d only been phantom pregnant. When she waltzed into the Saloon to deliver this fascinating science lesson, she appeared unequivocally euphoric. She’d known for four days and stayed for exactly forty seconds and had thought to tell him in person solely because she knew he couldn't follow her out.</p><p>It took almost a week for her to tell him. That was how much he factored into any of this. They’d only briefly been parents to a teeny-tiny smudge of a suicidal sea monkey, yet Sebastian felt bereft. He’d been tense for weeks waiting for an answer, and when he knew definitively, his profound relief spiraled into a type of mourning.</p><p>So he got wasted.</p><p>He catapulted from the bedroom wall to his most death-defying act of bravery yet—to hurtle down the entire length of the hallway and into the bathroom. The air in the bathroom felt cool. He clung to the sink with both hands and rewarded himself with a long slug of water, which he promptly heaved into the toilet, along with the battery acid that bourbon turns into after you toss half a bottle of it down your throat.</p><p>Late period count: negative five days. Or was it six?</p><p>Days it would take to get over Abigail (this time): twenty-eight (or maybe fifty-six to be safe).</p><p>Days it would take Sebastian to stop hating himself for drinking again: two million.</p><p>Sebastian ran the tub and sat in it. The heat prickled. An army of pins and needles on his skin. The sun was coming up. The water rose around his bony arms and hollowed stomach, and in the muted light he decided he was ugly. Decorating his skeletal figure with tattoos perhaps hadn’t been the best idea.</p><p>God, he was depressed. Sebastian couldn’t recall the last time he felt joy for any number of days he could string together. He pictured himself at Abigail’s birthday dinner two years ago, a potluck with enchiladas, and the fight they’d had for no reason other than being so shitfaced off fireball shots because there were no mixers and zero ice. When Angie got her GED last summer they’d had her graduation at the bar, and for Labor Day, when Gash got alcohol poisoning on a tubing trip, they’d dropped him off at the clinic and continued drinking.</p><p>Sebastian thought about how it felt to talk to Jude and how dark their darks got sometimes.</p><p>EMERGENCY JUDE</p><p>Wed, 2:13 AM</p><p>S: Do you ever feel dead?</p><p>J: Tired?</p><p>S: No</p><p>Deceased</p><p>J: Um no?</p><p>What?</p><p>S: Sorry</p><p>I’ve been having the craziest dreams</p><p>J: ME TOO!</p><p>S: You first</p><p>J: OMG and it was a death dream!</p><p>I was buried alive</p><p>S: Textbook anxiety nightmare</p><p>J: It wasn’t a nightmare tho</p><p>Not really</p><p>I wasn’t scared</p><p>I was in this coffin</p><p>Someone knew that I was still alive</p><p>Because there was this IV of blood</p><p>That was dripping into my mouth</p><p>S: Well that’s just a tube</p><p>doesn’t count as an IV</p><p>J: You’re the worst</p><p>S: Lol it’s true</p><p>J: Fine A TUBE</p><p>I must have been a vampire</p><p>Because it was nourishment</p><p>And there was also this tube of oxygen pumping in</p><p>S: Complicated setup</p><p>J: All I know is that I could breathe</p><p>S: Wait</p><p>Someone you knew buried you?</p><p>But was keeping you alive?</p><p>J: Exactly</p><p>S: Interesting</p><p>J: And the crazy thing is</p><p>I think it was you</p><p>S: Why tho?</p><p>You must have deserved it</p><p>J: It was strangely comforting</p><p>Are you harboring any desires to bury me?</p><p>S: Not yet</p><p>J: Haha</p><p>Kk back to my thing</p><p>Do you know what Cotard’s syndrome is?</p><p>That was the first time he’d heard of it. Jude was a trove of oddities and inexplicable phenomena. Cotard’s syndrome, or Cotard’s delusion, was a rare mental illness where the afflicted person was convinced they were dead. French neurologist Jules Cotard had first described it as the delirium of negation. (Sebastian pictured someone in a monocle saying no, no, no, no while cackling hysterically.) In an early case, a woman had believed that as a corpse she no longer needed food. Unsurprisingly, she died of starvation.</p><p>Sebastian wiped his wet face with both hands.</p><p>He rewound the tape to before he saw Abigail. Jude’s face when she’d come in with her mom. There. Stop.</p><p>Sebastian had been happy then. He hadn’t been thinking about Abigail at all. He hadn’t been worried or angry. His brain wasn’t gnawing on his one thousand failings or the people in his life he’d disappointed most. He was simply enjoying how the person he liked best—the one who usually lived inside his phone—walked over to ask for almond milk.</p><p>And then Abigail swooped in, scrambling his receptors. Right before his shift ended. Again ruining a rare moment he was completely in repose. As she left she told him to keep her computer. Or to “donate it to charity.” As if he would ever be in the position to give away something so valuable. Sebastian was gutted.</p><p>Everything was falling apart again. Hands numb and head throbbing, Sebastian finished the last of his tasks, pulled himself an espresso and then another. He went to sit on a stool in the front with his sneakered feet dragging on the boards, heart thundering in time to his thoughts. What was this feeling? This loss? He felt hollow and bruised, scraped out from the inside. Sebastian moved outside to the front steps, hitched his elbows on his knees, and let his head hang.</p><p>You do not get to have a panic attack because you’re not having a baby, he’d told himself. Still, he was wrecked. The irrational hope died, the baseless idea that a baby would have somehow helped. That its appearance would mend at least part of what was damaged about his life. He’d get a do-over. The next chapter could begin. It would be new. Not perfect but different.</p><p>In his daze, he’d heard Gus say good night and felt a familiar tightness at his shoulders.</p><p>Sebastian was alone. Horribly, undeniably alone.</p><p>He reached for the phone to text Jude—no to call, as he’d said he would—and faltered. What could she possibly say to make this better? He was setting her up to fail. There wasn’t a sane person in the universe who would say this wasn’t great news, but Sebastian couldn’t bear to hear it. He was grieving. Could he grieve things that weren’t real in the first place?</p><p>The unease at his shoulders merged in his throat. He was thirsty. He needed a drink. He began planning where he would get one. Not one. Twenty. By himself.</p><p>Sebastian came up from the water for air.</p><p>Sifting through the wreckage of the last six months, he tried to be methodical about assigning the right feelings to the appropriate experience. Without Jude to play emotional Sherpa, he’d have to concentrate. Rage was easy to identify. The anger was quick and bright.</p><p>But as fast as the fury came, it dissipated rapidly too. Abigail wasn’t the villain, as convenient as that would have been.</p><p>Mostly he felt stupid.</p><p>He remembered back to when he’d first realized he was in love with her. They’d been dating for two months. She’d picked him up, and they were driving around wasting gas and making out. When an old country song came on the radio station, instead of clowning how cloying it was, she surprised him by turning it up and knowing every word. Crooning in a hammy manner about rivers, old men, and changing the “hers” to “hims” and talking about the light in his eyes, he realized that Abigail under the rancor, the eyeliner, and the hair was his person. She also happened to be a person who was meanest when she believed she was under attack, which for Abigail was all the time.</p><p>And this Abigail—every Abigail—didn’t need Sebastian anymore. She simply didn’t want him.</p><p>The tub was cold, so he got out.</p><p>It wasn’t like Sebastian knew how to be a dad. He had zero worthy role models, and he was arguably a shitty brother to Maru. It’s that Sebastian, for whatever reason, had been looking forward to figuring it out—reprioritizing. He’d promised himself and his new family that he’d finish things he started. As dumb and stereotypical as it sounded, he wanted a chance to man up—a shot at a sense of purpose.</p><p>He padded back into his room and lay down on his side by his phone. No new messages. He checked his outgoing calls. Yep, there it was. Call to Liar 2:17 a.m. She hadn’t picked up. Thank God.</p><p>His alarm chimed, reminding Sebastian of how different his life had been when he’d set it. He dried off slowly and threw on a black T-shirt that only vaguely smelled bad. Then he deposited himself into his jeans, grabbed his smokes and sunglasses, shuffled on his sneakers, and stepped outside.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Hair Of The Dog That Bit You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jude goes out with the girls for a night of uninhibited fun.</p><p>Ugh, why do people go to these things? There was no biological imperative for it. Was there any other species on earth that prized popularity the way people did? Did lemurs hang around preening in a never-ending competition of pretending to be over it? Humans were gross.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is solely in Jude's point of view.<br/>Enjoy reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>Three days. Three days since she’d seen him. Three days since he’d called and said he might call again and didn’t. Jude should have texted him the first day. Now the window was closed and things were beyond screwed up.</p><p>At 11:59 p.m. on the first day, Jude composed a list of why there was nullus possibilitus of something romantic happening with Sebastian. It was very constructive.</p><p>Reasons why there is nullus possibilitus of something romantic happening with BASH:</p><p>1. Two wackjobs with mom issues don’t make a right.</p><p>2. He was madly in love with his ex.</p><p>3. His ex who BY THE WAY was pregs?! </p><p>4. AND EVEN IF SHE WASN’T PREGS, HE WAS ACTING LIKE SHE WAS, WHICH WAS CLEARLY A SIGN OF POSSIBLE MENTAL ILLNESS AND HYSTERICAL TENDENCIES.</p><p>5. He was Jude’s friend.</p><p>6. As in, for real friend.*</p><p>7. To where if she found a way to make it uncomfortable with her world-famous talent for doing exactly that, she would be depressed forever.</p><p>8. Plus, he told her everything about everything, which meant she was FOR SURE in the friend zone black hole from which light could not escape.</p><p>9. He was way too hot. I mean, come on, that video was basically porn.</p><p>*just not IRL</p><p>Toward the end of day two, things became a little hairy. Jude went on a bonkers binge of MzAbbyXO’s social. It was a destructive bender. She three-finger zoomed on everything, trying to figure out how big Abby’s boobs were or how smooth the skin on her thighs. The pictures with Sebastian were especially agonizing. Her favorite was a close-up of his eye and his hair with the sun coming up behind him. They were plainly in bed, her bed, since the sheets were floral.</p><p>The other pictures were a perfect accompaniment to the video. It was him but also not. As if body snatchers had taken over. The guy in the photo was constantly surrounded by friends, grinning and being lifted off his feet often by a giant blond guy with a huge beard. He was confident, beloved, and more than anything else, upbeat. The dude in the picture was not someone who would ever hang out with her. Not a chance.</p><p>Once Jude had essentially memorized the full collection of MzAbbyXO’s eight thousand photographs and mentally written every manner of speculative fiction about the fabulousness of her life and the two of them in bed, she was convinced of what had happened. It was obvious. They were together again. He was simply too embarrassed to tell her. In fact, they’d eloped, they now lived together with their freakishly attractive baby, who would roll out of Abigail’s womb covered in tattoos and wearing the coolest vintage sunglasses.</p><p>Damn that rock-star baby.</p><p>Jude washed her face. It was over. The spell had been broken. She was back where she was meant to be. Tree frogging it up solo. She picked up her phone. Nothing. Even Tara backed off after their fight. Jude told Tara that she needed space, and to her credit, her mother took it to heart and they agreed to see each other at her birthday party.</p><p>Jude clenched her fists so hard her fingernails dug into her palm.</p><p>At least now she had time to work on the farm more. All the time. In the world. Alone. Forever.</p><p>Jude stared at her phone screen. If she admitted out loud that she felt broken up with, that she’d essentially been dumped by a bunch of texts, she would sound insane. Real life might be dazzling for other people. Those girls on the Instagram Explore page visiting Disneyland with the loves of their lives. Or else making out in cars with their hair whipping wildly in the wind. None of Jude’s memories were tangible. She and Sebastian had never gotten caught in the rain, and she couldn’t summon the smell of cookies they’d baked together. Jude never once held her breath as he plucked an eyelash from her cheek so she could make a wish. As much as all of it would be exactly what she’d wish for.</p><p>Jude was wrenched from her thoughts by someone’s triumphant chatter echoing from outside. Soon knocks were at the door and she slowly opened it halfway.</p><p>“Wake up! It’s an emergency,” Haley snarled. It was three p.m., and she was wearing jean shorts so short they resembled a diaper. Haley was the type of girl who could wear the stupidest, unlikeliest collection of things and still somehow appear alluring. She decided in the moment what was cute, and by force of will the entire world around her went along with it.</p><p>“Uuuuuuugh, I thought we’d discussed this,” Jude said, smiling. “Whether or not you should get bangs doesn’t constitute an emergency.”</p><p>Maru and Penny flopped on Jude’s bed once inside.</p><p>“Ha ha, jerk,” said Haley. “Whatever, you can’t knock my mood. My gorgeous, super-hot, handsome—”</p><p>“I think we’ve covered that he’s attractive . . . ,” said Penny.</p><p>“Ben invited us to visit,” announced Maru.</p><p>“Who’s Ben?” Jude asked.</p><p>Penny and Maru sat on the corner of Jude’s bed and stared as if a millipede had marched out of her left nostril.</p><p>Then it dawned on her. Ben. As in Haley’s Ben. Ben the crooner whose videos she’d been forced to watch at least fifty times.</p><p>“He invited us?” Admittedly Jude was curious to meet the guy who had more than two million views on a weepy song about being too hurt to surf.</p><p>“Yep, and we’re going out,” said Haley. “We’re going to find Maru a hot date.”</p><p>“I’m so ready,” Maru confirmed. “I’m from a broken home and ready to make some mistakes.”</p><p>Jude laughed. “I can only imagine Dr. Harvey’s take on this,” she said.</p><p>“Actually,” said Maru, “Dr. Harvey can suck it, I've got better things to do than worry 'bout his opinion.”</p><p>Jude and Penny exchanged glances and Haley smiled at Maru.</p><p>Jude was impressed.</p><p>“Now, hurry up,” said Maru. “We've got to hit the road soon.”</p><p>“Wait, me also?” she asked.</p><p>“Yeah, dummy,” said Haley. “He’s throwing a party at this fabulous venue and you’ll have to borrow clothes. You can’t expect to show up avec moi wearing something you own.”</p><p>In the chick flicks Jude watched with her mom, there was usually a big to-do about getting ready for a night out. The makeover montage where the ugly duckling removes her glasses and pulls her hair down and is suddenly movie-star gorgeous. It was total baloney, yet Jude secretly loved the reveal as much as Tara. Then again, Tara’s makeup case was the size of a hearse.</p><p>Jude checked her phone. No calls, no texts. It was time to take the interface outside. With other humans.</p><p>“Okay,” said Jude. “I’m in.”</p><p>The girls headed to Zuzu.</p><p>Haley had a place in the city for when she spent the weekends with her boyfriend or just when she had a night out and didn't want to go back to town. The lobby, which you could have parked a submarine in, was glass and marble and smelled of fresh-cut flowers. There were floor-to-ceiling canvases of tasteful abstract art, and while Jude knew that Haley was rich, she realized she’d lacked imagination. Jude’s rich meant you had an in-ground pool.</p><p>“Have you been here before?” asked Haley as they all crowded in the elevator, pushing the PH button for the penthouse. She was constantly doing things like that, testing her for reasons Jude couldn’t identify.</p><p>“Nope,” Jude responded. “You never invited me before.”</p><p>“Oh, well, then you’re welcome,” said Haley, smiling serenely, as if she’d given Jude first-class tickets to Aspen.</p><p>There was another button above the PH. Jude pointed to it.</p><p>“What’s that for?” she asked.</p><p>“The helipad,” said Haley. Jude couldn’t tell if she was kidding. </p><p>They rode in silence.</p><p>Her ears popped.</p><p>“Haley’s got a suite on the top,” said Penny.</p><p>Haley's place was about the size of a hotel suite where a president or a Beyoncé would stay. It had 360-degree views of the whole city. It was easily the nicest room Jude had ever been in. There were two black leather sofas, a white sheepskin rug, and a glass coffee table that would have made sense in a movie about drug trafficking. In fact, it was so shockingly opulent that it made Jude think of Penny differently if only momentarily, her and Haley had been friends since they were young. She couldn’t help it. Was there such a thing as a friendship gold digger? Jude put on her most convincing bored face. She invoked the vibe of a mega celebrity at an airport security line and willed her shoulders away from her ears.</p><p>Throughout the living room, there were silver-framed photos of Haley at different ages. On a horse. In a library. In a velvet dress. With braces. Or a perm.</p><p>“I don’t know why,” said Haley, waving her hand at the far wall, “but my mom thinks the only thing any little girl wants for Christmas every year is a photo of herself and a Lalique.”</p><p>Jude reminded herself to Google Lalique. It was either the breed of horse or a fashion designer.</p><p>“That’s about ten thousand dollars in Lalique frames,” said Penny, who’d flopped on Haley’s couch. Okay, so a Lalique was a picture frame.</p><p>“It’s the memories that are priceless,” Jude quipped. She wondered if they’d go around the room saying how much everything cost. If Haley’s place was The Price Is Right, there was no way she would win. Jude had grown up surrounded by IKEA. She sat gingerly next to Penny and Maru.</p><p>“Now for the pièce de résistance.” Haley grabbed both of Jude’s hands and pulled her off the couch. Jude caught Maru’s eyes, trying to get a hint.</p><p>“She wants to show you her closet,” Maru said, checking her messages. Jude wondered if any of her messages were from Sebastian.</p><p>She let herself be dragged by Haley’s vise grip.</p><p>So, there were walk-in closets and then there were drive-in theater closets</p><p>“Holy crap,” breathed Jude. Haley’s neatly organized battalions of designer shoes would have earned an appreciative whistle from Imelda Marcos, the kleptocrat wife of the former president of the Philippines who had hoarded three thousand pairs of shoes while her people starved.</p><p>“Is your dad in the mob or something?” Jude picked up a brown leather slipper lined in soft silver fur.</p><p>“That’s such an offensive question,” said Haley, laughing. “But you’re not far off. He’s in oil.”</p><p>“Her family’s evil,” said Penny. “But if you met them, they’d be super polite to you.”</p><p>“Seriously,” said Haley, nodding. “My dad, would probably still wash his hands immediately after shaking yours though.”</p><p>Jude let the comment hang. She wasn’t in the mood. She could overlook Haley’s barbs for one night and dumb out. She needed the break from her head.</p><p>But Jude was underdressed; there was no denying it. If this was Haley’s bedroom, she could only imagine how the party would be. She was wearing yet another black cotton dress. More or less a T-shirt that had grayed from being sent through the drier so many times. Plus, sneakers.</p><p>Jude searched for the selfie Sebastian had sent her while the girls looked through Haley's closet. With his tattoos covered and in white shirtsleeves he seemed defenseless and normal. You could only see his chin and the horrible button-up, and it sent Jude into a rage. Why did he have to put on a costume for a date? If MzAbbyXO required that he dress like everybody else, she clearly didn’t appreciate him for who he was. His distinctiveness was the best part. Jude thought of this Korean saying for when you really, really liked something. You’d say it “fit your heart exactly.” Sebastian fit her heart exactly. She wished she’d taken a creep shot of him at the café so she could have a better photo to fawn over.</p><p>Haley emerged from the back part of her closet wearing a red ribbon corset. It was the underwear of a thirty-five-year-old French divorcée, and it amazed Jude what support garments and designer clothes could do for a physique. Haley shimmied into a crimson column dress and the effect was impressive. She resembled a vamp from an eighties movie.</p><p>Jude wondered if she could borrow a special rich-people girdle for her thighs. She hated her thick legs. Her mom called them “athletic,” which, unless you’re an athlete, was more of an insult.</p><p>Penny bent over at several angles. She had thrown on an electric-blue dress made entirely of industrial-strength elastic. She peered at her ass in the mirror. “This is so constricting,” she said. and Maru looked beautiful in the embellished gauzy mesh overlay of a figure-skimming midi dress, Old-world glamour much like the Ghost of Gatsby.</p><p>“Here, wear this,” said Haley, tossing Jude a black floor-length slip. She fingered the material. It had the sheen and slipperiness of an oil slick. “What size shoe are you?”</p><p>Jude wriggled her toes. Fitting in to Haley’s platform boots had called for two pairs of socks and stacks of those squishy gel pads. But it was worth it. They were stunning. Still, it was little wonder that Penny’s glamorous bestie was often in a foul mood. Pretty shoes were painful.</p><p>As they tottered to the right factory building on the east side of Zuzu, Jude wondered if someone was playing an elaborate joke on them. Nothing about the space remotely suggested there was a party going on inside. Haley pulled on the handle of what could only be described as a homicide factory on the docks. The only indication of a gathering was that the music was so loud that Jude could feel the back of her throat shudder along with the bass.</p><p>Haley got on her phone. A moment later a willowy black twentysomething in a long black leather kilt pushed open the metal door from the inside.</p><p>“Hey,” he said to the four girls. He had a trillion freckles, a shaved head, and the word “tattoo” tattooed on his neck. Haley responded “hey” as unenthusiastically and gave him their names, which he checked against an iPad.</p><p>He waved them in.</p><p>They climbed up the bright stairwell and up two flights toward the music. When they trailed in, the room was the size of an airplane hangar, and the windows were covered in black sheets. It was dark and filled with smoke, and Jude felt as if she’d walked into the club scene of a movie where the vampires were about to <em>annihilate</em> everyone.</p><p>Jude vaguely made out shapes of people in small groups with red Solo cups in their hands. It took a second for her eyes to adjust, and when they did she realized she’d never been to a party with so many people of different ages. A gray-haired man in a tartan suit and eyeliner stopped them, and before Jude knew what was happening, he snapped their picture, whispered something to Penny, and gave her his card.</p><p>The flash blinded her momentarily.</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“Party photographer,” screamed Penny over the music, and handed the card over. She went to slide it into her pocket and remembered she wasn’t wearing jeans. Jude slipped it into her bra, as she imagined a girl dressed as she was might do.</p><p>The way everyone glanced at them and then glanced away was as if they were waiting for someone. Someone important. Someone who Penny, Jude, Maru and Haley clearly were not.</p><p>Penny reached for her hand in the dark, and Jude clung on for dear life while holding onto Maru with her other hand. Penny, in turn, was latched on to Haley, who was weaving through the crowd to find Ben.</p><p>Toward the back was a DJ booth and a blur of faces, outfits, and a topiary of provocative hairstyles. Jude felt the roving eyes and was relieved that she passed as someone of indeterminable importance. She glared so as not to appear too terrified.</p><p>“Okay,” said Haley after they’d circled the room. “Now we can get a drink.”</p><p>In the back, surrounded by a crowd five deep, there were three bartenders, all with impressive butt chins and hair bleached white. They stood behind card tables covered with black tablecloths.</p><p>Jude worried she was going to get carded, but when Haley elbowed her way in and ordered champagne, the three of them did the same.</p><p>“Live bold, be bold, lie bold,” she whispered to herself, tugging at her borrowed dress. As if calling upon Tara’s “scammer” coffee mug for moral support would help. Strangely, it did.</p><p>Jude took a big gulp of booze. The bubbles were prickly on her throat.</p><p>“So, is he here?” she yelled at Haley over the noise.</p><p>“Yeah. Behind the DJ booth.”</p><p>“Aren’t you going to say hi?”</p><p>“No way. He has to say hi to me first,” she said. “He invited <em>me.</em>”</p><p>A moment later a Blasian dude with a beard sidled over to them. He had green eyes and blindingly white teeth.</p><p>“Hey,” he said to Maru, eyes at half-mast.</p><p>“Hey,” the four girls responded just as listlessly.</p><p>“Is this your party?” he asked Maru.</p><p>“It’s my friend’s,” Jude heard her say.</p><p>Haley pulled out a vape pen and inhaled. Jude watched the little blue LED light and wondered what was in it. Penny took it after her, and when she handed it to Jude, Jude shook her head and gave it to Maru. She had smoked weed only once, with Mark, and it made her fantastically paranoid. The constant stream of neurotic questions in her mind multiplied and amplified. It made Jude-head so much more and it was overwhelming. It would be perfect if she had an anxiety attack at the party.</p><p>“Hey, baby.” Ben hugged Haley from behind, and she squealed. He resembled the guy in the music videos only with a head so big it would’ve looked at home with smaller heads orbiting it. Haley swiveled around, and they shared a lusty kiss. Jude had to hand it to her. She knew how to play it cool.</p><p>With Haley gone, Jude felt as if the locus of power of their circle had disappeared, soon Penny had wondered off to talk to a very attractive guy with piercing eyes. She checked her phone battery. Fifty-four percent. Plenty to call a cab if she needed to. Maru and the green-eyed guy were deep in conversation, and when it was time for him to hit up the bar, Maru glanced at Jude to see if it was okay. Jude nodded. There was only one answer to those kinds of questions anyway. Maru followed her new friend and left Jude behind.</p><p>Jude stood in the middle of the room ignoring everyone as hard as she could and drank her drink. </p><p>She tried to conjure someone glamorous yet mighty—fierce—and thought of Jean Grey, a.k.a. Phoenix, arguably the most powerful mutant in the whole Marvel Universe. But then she remembered how Jean sorta lost her mind and didn’t wind up with Logan, a.k.a. Wolverine, who she so clearly should have been with. Then she thought about Sebastian. And how he was a total Wolverine and that’s when Jude became horribly depressed.</p><p>Screw it.</p><p>She marched over to the bartenders, got another champagne, and walked around. She made her way toward the front where a white wall was projected with different images of eyes. Cat’s eyes. Human eyes. Lizard eyes.</p><p>Ugh, why do people go to these things? There was no biological imperative for it. Was there any other species on earth that prized popularity the way people did? Did lemurs hang around preening in a never-ending competition of pretending to be over it? Humans were gross.</p><p>Jude recognized the guy who had let them in and tried to hold his gaze but failed. He whispered to the eyebrowless girl next to him before they both turned away.</p><p>The eyes projected onto the wall morphed into a sunrise.</p><p>The “show,” or whatever this was, was probably cool if you were on drugs. Not that it would have made a difference. Everyone was on their phones.</p><p>Jude leaned up against a wall and pulled out hers. She considered reading Sebastian’s old texts, as she often did when she had time alone, but resisted.</p><p>“Jude?”</p><p>Whoever it was, he was tall and backlit. She walked into the light. It was Elliott, the town's somewhat reclusive author. Jude couldn’t at all get a read on him. He often helped Penny teaching the children about writing and how to make their stories more interesting only she'd never really interacted with him directly, Elliott made her feel competitive when it came to helping Penny with school lessons, which didn’t even make any sense. Those kids were great and having more people help them grow was such an amazing thing.</p><p>It was odd seeing people out of context. Like running into your priest at the gas station. Seeing the author in his “going out” shirt in the middle of the night felt like a glitch in the Matrix. He was with another dude. Shorter, brown-haired—with a face like a weak handshake—he wore white jeans and mirrored sunglasses. Sebastian would have had a field day.</p><p>“Uh, hey,” she said.</p><p>Elliott leaned in, took her forearms, and air-kissed both of her cheeks. To Jude, who didn’t know what was happening, the first kiss was scandalizing, the second completely mortifying.</p><p>“This is Jude,” he shouted to his friend. “She lives in Pelican as well.</p><p>“This is Alan. He’s kind of a twat.” He whispered the last part so close to her ear Jude withdrew reflexively.</p><p>“Lovely to meet you,” said Alan, checking her out in a way that was less about appreciating her outfit and more about being caught eyeing her. <em>Blargh.</em> Jude wished she were wearing a hoodie. “Shall I get us another round?” asked Alan.</p><p>“Fantastic idea,” said Elliott. “Grab me a beer. Jude, what are you having?”</p><p>“Champagne.”</p><p>“Prosecco likely,” remarked Alan. Jude could tell he was making fun of her, though she couldn’t tell exactly how.</p><p>“So,” said Elliott. Jude delighted in how Elliott’s cheeks were as ruddy as hers from the booze.</p><p>“I have a question.” He cleared his throat.</p><p>Jude nodded.</p><p>“Do you know where the hell we are?” he asked. “Alan, who again, for the record, is a terrible person, dragged me here.”</p><p>Jude smiled. “No idea!” she yelled into his ear. “A girl who possibly hates me brought me.”</p><p>“Perhaps as punishment,” he noted.</p><p>“Perhaps,” she echoed, and found herself giggling.</p><p>“Do you need to get back to her?” he asked. Jude noticed how twinkly his eyes were.</p><p>“How about I wait for your obnoxious friend to bring us drinks.” Jude wasn’t sure she should keep drinking except that she preferred it to idly waiting for any of the girls to return from making out with their dudes.</p><p>Elliott surveyed the room. “Clearly we need better friends; this place is hideous.”</p><p>“It’s possibly the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” she agreed.</p><p>He shook his head, dimples deepening. “This whole night has been insane,” he said.</p><p>“Jude! There you are.” Maru grabbed her shoulder and handed her another red cup, splashing some onto her hand. “Where have you beeeen?”</p><p>Maru hung on to the last word long enough that Jude knew she was drunk or high. Or at least solidly on her way to both.</p><p>“Heeeeeeeey,” she said to Elliott.</p><p>“Heeeeeeeey,” he responded, subtly nudging Jude with his elbow.</p><p>“Maru, this is—”</p><p>“Elliott,” he said, shaking Maru’s hand. Maru’s gaze lingered over him.</p><p>“He’s a dear, dear friend,” Jude finished. It wasn’t a complete lie.</p><p>“Fun,” said Maru, widening her eyes approvingly.</p><p>She was right. Jude was surprised to realize, she was kind of, maybe, actually having fun.</p><p>When Jude opened her eyes the next morning her mouth tasted of wet wool socks that had stewed in a car for a month.</p><p>
  <em>Kill me now.</em>
</p><p>Jude was dressed in last night’s outfit with the addition of half a quesadilla, perched jauntily on her chest like a cheese-filled piece of statement jewelry. She had zero recollection of stopping for something to eat. As for how she got home, that remained mysterious as well. Jude sat up, head pounding, laid the old food gently on her nightstand, and picked up her phone.</p><p>Six a.m.</p><p>1 NEW MESSAGE</p><p>Today 2:57 AM</p><p>Hi</p><p>It was Elliott. Jude recalled giggling uncontrollably attempting to punch her number into his phone. In the end he’d had to commandeer the operation, and with their combined efforts and numerous opportunities to brush fingers, they’d managed to eke out the dispatch.</p><p>She stumbled to the bathroom, scrubbed the furry taste out of her mouth, and scraped the makeup off her face.</p><p>Her reflection was pale. Puffy too. Her hair hung limply by her face. Her pores were enlarged, resembling thirsty little mouths.</p><p>“Pretty,” she croaked.</p><p>She shimmied out of her constricting bra that had crept up her left boob, and a card fell out onto the tile with a prim thwack. She picked it up. It was the party photographer’s business card. It said nothing more than “stoooooooooooooooop.com.” Jude counted the number of O’s and plugged the URL into her phone. Under last night’s date was a gallery of pretty partygoers, and while Jude had been there and recognized some of the faces and outfits, scrolling through felt somehow voyeuristic. Everyone was so glamorous. Then she found her and Penny.</p><p>It was like looking at a mannequin version of herself.</p><p>Uncanny Valley . . .</p><p>Used in reference to the phenomenon whereby a computer-generated figure or humanoid bearing a near-identical resemblance to a human being arouses a sense of unease or revulsion in the person viewing it.</p><p>In the picture, Jude’s face was a mask. She remembered how startled she’d been when the photographer pounced. Yet wearing the black slip, with Penny’s arms encircling her waist, she appeared composed. The flash accentuated her pale skin and dark lips. Not only that, but her eyes were narrowed alluringly and her lips were curled in a confident smirk. It was Jude. Except it wasn’t. This was evil, sexy Jude. A Jude she hadn’t been aware of. She was captivated by her avatar.</p><p>First off, Jude had had fun. Real fun. In-the-moment IRL fun. Not the sort of fun where she had to continually remind herself to have a good time. In fact, she hadn’t checked her phone at all. As far as she was concerned, alcohol was a miracle. She felt captivating. Jude belonged at that party. She felt, okay, not to be psychotic or pathetic or anything, but she felt like a MzAbbyXO.</p><p>As she scrolled through, she wondered if this was how it was to be a party girl. Regular Jude only ever took photos bearing the expression of someone attempting to pass a kidney stone the size of a chair. Yet last night there were two more party shots that were taken of her unaware. One with Haley, Maru and Penny, doing the unimaginable—dancing in public. And another with her head thrown back, laughing at something Elliott was telling her, with her hand firmly planted on his chest.</p><p>She’d spent most of the evening chatting with Elliott. And his dimples. Elliott who’d gone to boarding school and traveled the world and had a six-pack that Maru had molested at a certain point in the evening. Even Alan had become substantially less irritating once enough booze had tobogganed down Jude’s piehole.</p><p>It was exhilarating to be at a party and feel comfortable with someone, a near stranger she'd only been around a number of times.</p><p>Jude's mind exploded. She reddened at the memory of hugging and kissing Elliott on the cheek at the revelation. Even with her hangover, Party Jude had served her well.</p><p>She’d also had a blast with the girls. Lots of giggly joint bathroom visits.</p><p>“I can't believe he's here, he is hella cute,” said Haley, meaning Elliott. They’d shared the stall, and normally Jude would have way too much performance anxiety to go, but this time it was fine.</p><p>“I know!” Jude exclaimed. By then her feet were bleeding and she could feel the slickness between her toes, but she didn’t care</p><p>Elliott was cute. He was well read and sophisticated and taller than her in high heels and weighed more than her, which Sebastian plainly didn’t. All she had to do was exactly the opposite of what she normally would to be attractive. Simple as that. Screw Sebastian.</p><p>Jude made a promise to never text him again. Or at least not until he texted first.</p><p>Right then, as if by magic, her phone buzzed.</p><p>It was her mom.</p><p>Typical.</p><p>Jude ignored it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks to Labor Day weekend I was able to stay in and get quite a bit of writing done so the next update will probably be a little later this week fingers crossed I find time to finish the next chapter. If not perhaps next week.<br/>I hope everyone was safe and remains healthy.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Birds Of A Feather</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sebastian takes time to film his doc.<br/>Jude has a conversation with Elliott.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know this is a bit short. Is that okay?<br/>Should I just take more time to write longer chapters or do you guys not mind the shorter ones coming in at least once a week?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>Nicolas Trejo was fourteen, looked twelve, and had started smoking when he was ten. And while the skate rat was nothing more than a runt in busted shoes, to Sebastian there was something intimidating about him. But after that first afternoon, by the time Nic cadged three cigarettes and a Whataburger chicken finger meal off him, the kid let his guard down.</p><p>The only rule they’d established for the documentary was that if him, James, and Rico were skating when they weren’t supposed to be Sebastian couldn’t get them in trouble with their parents. Sebastian agreed.</p><p>“Yeah, Nic’s mom is serious,” said James.</p><p>“Yeah, Mom’s got enough going on,” Nic said, flicking his cigarette.</p><p>Beyond that, Nicolas didn’t need any further convincing. The kid had a compulsively watchable face and knew it. Sebastian’s setup was too cumbersome with the DSLR, so mostly he shot with his phone, and the second it was up, Nic was ready. Talking a mile a minute, rattling off sordid tales of every “bitch” he “bagged” and other girls who had “curved” him. He knew how to tell a story even if Sebastian suspected most of it was made up.</p><p>He taped the three of them trying to land tricks on their crappy boards some afternoons. Mostly, he let the kids do the talking. He learned that James had more money than the other two, and was easygoing about it. He shared the snacks he bought without complaint.</p><p>With no parents in sight, the boredom of a kid’s world was strangely stark and poetic. Even though they had no expectation that they’d ever go to college. They weren’t fuckups or anything. In fact, other than cigarettes, they were straight edge—no drugs, no alcohol. Their only other vice was that they were seemingly obsessed with green juice, since Nic’s mom worked at a fancy juice stand. This afternoon, the boys had come from there, and Sebastian was filming Nic with his acai and kale smoothie. “The girls like it,” Nic said, smiling wide. “It makes your jizz taste like flowers.”</p><p>When it got dark Sebastian thanked the guys, broke them off two cigarettes each, and got in the car. His phone buzzed, and he had an irrational hope that it was Jude. It was Willy checking in about his car. Sebastian hit him back and tried to shake off whatever he felt when he thought of her lately.</p><p>The last thing Sebastian had asked Jude was, “Why the escalation?” Then, “You good?” She hadn’t hit him back. Not once. He wanted to call her. He had said he would, before Abigail sent him into a spiral. At this point who knew if she even wanted him to call? It had been almost two weeks. He didn’t know who was supposed to do what next.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>Elliott was kind of the worst. Or he was the best. Whatever he was, everything he wanted to do was a horrendous idea.</p><p>When Jude climbed out of bed, she cursed him. Him and his stupid handsome face and the cathedral to orthodontia that was his mouth. At least he had great lips. She wondered if he was a good kisser. Jude checked her phone out of habit and sighed. There was so much free time now that she wasn’t sending a thousand texts an hour to someone who didn’t have feelings for her in the first place.</p><p>Jude wondered briefly if Sebastian was okay and then told herself to stop worrying about him.</p><p>She put on some sweats, grabbed her running shoes, and marched out. It was a cool morning for once. Instead of heading toward the library, Jude made her way to the towns gardens by the Saloon. It was early enough that most people were probably barely eating breakfast.</p><p>Elliott was already at their appointed meeting place of “the set of benches in front” when she arrived.</p><p>“You’re late,” he said. He was draped in swishy gray high-tech running clothes and wore matching graphite sunglasses.</p><p>“Jesus, you look like someone we’d send to repopulate a new galaxy.” She yawned. “What is this outfit?”</p><p>Elliott stretched his arms above his head. “There’s an optimal set of clothes for every activity,” he said. “This is my running ensemble.”</p><p>“Spoken like the last remaining hope for human civilization.”</p><p>He smiled winningly.</p><p>“You know I’m not running, right?” confirmed Jude. “I’m coming with you around the Cindersnap lake primarily to get some fresh air and keep you company.”</p><p>Elliott touched his toes.</p><p>Jude tried to touch hers. She reached to just below her knees.</p><p>“That’s fine,” he said. “I need to mine your brain for information on the female psyche, so it’s quid pro quo.”</p><p>Jude chortled. “Good luck.”</p><p>Truthfully, Jude wasn’t above getting some exercise. Her haunches were taking on the consistency of veal, and there was a permanent crease above her belly button from all the sitting she'd been doing as of late. </p><p>Besides which, she enjoyed Elliott’s company. Jude wondered if it was because they were into the same things. After the party they’d settled into an easy camaraderie. He was good for her. She was getting better and better at interfacing with real-life humans on a near-daily basis.</p><p>After that night, Jude had quickly disabused Elliott of the notion that she wore glamorous dresses and drank champagne regularly. A few days ago she’d met him in the library in pajamas and ate so much beef jerky she got meat sweats.</p><p>“Enough with this indoor-kid nonsense,” he’d said as she’d groaned in her protein overdose. “Next time we’re doing something less disgusting.”</p><p>Hence the attempted jogging.</p><p>“Okay, what do you want to know?”</p><p>Elliott began pacing. His arms bent in angles by his sides, pumping purposefully as he walked at a brisk clip.</p><p>“Ask me about the female psyche,” she challenged.</p><p>“Where did you read up to?” Elliott was writing a sprawling June-December romance set in the sixties between a septuagenarian French woman and a man forty years her junior who was Vietnamese. It was a play on Marguerite Duras’s The Lover.</p><p>“Okay, so they met at the bar and Esme’s married and it’s terribly fraught on the boat.”</p><p>“Right,” said Elliott. “And it’s not a boat, Jude. It’s a ship. An ocean liner.”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“Here’s what I want to know. . . . Good morning!” He nodded at Leah the town's sculptor in a sun visor walking in the opposite direction. Then he waved at Marnie who was attending her cows at her ranch. He was the goodwill ambassador of whatever ten-yard radius he occupied.</p><p>“Why would Esme leave her husband?” Elliott asked. “He’s rich. He’s in love with her. They’ve been in a relationship for decades. The sex, for what it’s worth, is okay.”</p><p>Jude tried to imagine sex between seventy-year-olds.</p><p>“What would the motivating factors be? She’s not in the market for it. Not explicitly anyway.”</p><p>“Well . . .” Jude thought about Vic, the younger guy. “Is he Esme’s person? Does he say good morning to her in a way that’s reassuring? To where it feels as if he’s holding her hand for the entire rest of the day until he says good night? Would she be happy for him if his happiness meant that she couldn’t be with him?”</p><p>“Sure,” said Elliott flippantly. “But William’s loaded.” That was Esme’s husband.</p><p>“You can be with the same person for a long time and have it be fine and meet someone else who instantly makes you see that it’s broken,” she said.</p><p>“Just like that?”</p><p>“Basically.”</p><p>“God, women are such fickle bitches.”</p><p>“It’s not women. It’s humans. It’s like a design flaw or something.”</p><p>“Right,” he said. He looked over at her then and she couldn't stop the smile that formed.</p><p>They continued their conversation as they made their way around the lake.</p><p>The morning was beautiful. She thought about taking off running ahead of him in an explosive bout of enthusiasm, then changed her mind. She wasn’t a zany manic pixie dream girl or anything. She’d probably pass out from the exertion.</p><p>“You should let me take you out sometime,” Elliott said. Jude stopped walking.</p><p>“What?” Jude was flabbergasted. “I thought you were dating Mariska or Misha or whatever her name was.” Elliott was very forthright about his leggy exploits.</p><p>“I am,” he said, and then smiled. “Also who says ‘dating’? I’m hanging out with Mariska and I am not opposed to similarly hanging out with you.”</p><p>“What, like purchase for me a food unit in a romance-conducive setting?”</p><p>Elliott scoffed. “Sure. Or watch with you a movie-unit in a comfortable area with flattering lighting conditions.”</p><p>Jude considered this. Elliott was handsome, though his teeth were too uniform. He was funny, too. Whenever they talked, the back-and-forth crackled with something unspoken. They were birds presenting plumage and making guttural noise. If nothing else it seemed surreal that Elliott could ask Jude out. Insane even.</p><p>“Can I think about it?” she asked.</p><p>“Nope,” he said, though he didn’t seem mad. “Here, let’s keep walking.”</p><p>They trudged in silence for a moment.</p><p>“Thing is, if you have to think about it, it means you’re not into it, and that’s difficult for someone like me to accept.” Elliott gestured to his Adonis-approximating physique in his spaceman jogging outfit. “I can’t be into someone who isn’t into me.”</p><p>Jude smiled. “Fair,” she said, relieved he wasn’t upset. “It’s just that I’m hung up on someone.”</p><p>“Is that why when I asked you the definition of love you had thirty sappy platitudes at the ready and sounded as if you wanted to die?”</p><p>Jude nodded.</p><p>“That blows,” he said, and then, “God, I’ve been there.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Je M'en Occupe—I Got This</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sebastian finally gets closure~<br/>“for reasons he couldn’t fathom, at a point that he hadn’t even noticed, he was finally over her. He was done. It was liberating. He was free”</p><p>Jude goes to see Sebastian at his home~<br/>“Hell of an entrance,” Sebastian said, lifting his arm up to shield his face.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>“I thought only dilettantes drank iced coffee.”</p><p>Sebastian was reorganizing the tea drawer while sipping on a tumbler of iced mocha. The tea drawer was an overstuffed cubby under the coffee machines. Emily made a habit of ripping open a new box of tea instead of rooting around for the desired flavor, so there were countless half-used boxes and orphaned bags. Sebastian only ever reorganized when he was in an especially foul temper. He was here again at the Saloon, not that he especially minded taking over for Gus. Only when things like <em>this</em> happened did he really feel affronted.</p><p>Abigail kept her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. She grabbed his glass and took a sip.</p><p>It had been thirteen days since their last encounter. Just shy of a fortnight since she’d air-kissed him as if she were some movie star, dropped the bomb about the ghost baby, and pranced back into the street without a care in the world.</p><p>“What do you want, Abigail?” Sebastian hated how much of a sitting duck he was when he worked the Saloon. Anyone could come see him whenever they wanted. A hit man could take him out with zero prep. In fact, if the shooter did it at the right time, he could wait until Sebastian was in a baking mood and snatch roadie desserts on his way out.</p><p>“I wanted to see you,” she said. Her perfume pierced the air around him.</p><p>“Great,” he snapped. His hair flopped defiantly in his face as he collected every blood orange Rooibos. He hated that it was supposed to be pronounced “Roy-Buss.” And why were herbal teas “tisanes”? So annoying.</p><p>“I thought we should talk about what happened.”</p><p>“So talk,” he said. He couldn’t see what was so newly urgent.</p><p>“Let’s go eat somewhere,” said Abigail. She grabbed his watered-down iced coffee and took another sip.</p><p>Sebastian slammed the boxes of tea down on the counter between them.</p><p>“Can’t,” he said with finality.</p><p>“I have something to say,” she said.</p><p>“So say.” Abigail’s nails were freshly painted in metallic-gold triangles over black.</p><p>“Can we do this somewhere more private?” It was fifteen minutes before his shift ended and there were only two other people in the Saloon. “When you’re less busy arranging or whatever super-important tea business you’re doing?”</p><p>“Just say what you need to say and say it fast.”</p><p>“I know these past few weeks have been confusing,” she said carefully. Then she changed tactic and removed her shades. “Don’t you miss me? I miss you.”</p><p>Abigail stared up at him and bit her lip. It was a rehearsed expression he instantly recognized. She made this face in moments she thought were particularly poignant.</p><p>“You know what, Abigail? There were times, I swear, when I would have robbed a bank, and tap-danced on my ancestors’ graves, <em>anything</em> to hear you say that. Not anymore.”</p><p>Sebastian wanted to hurt her—true—but he also realized that for once in the last two years, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, at a point that he hadn’t even noticed, he was finally over her. He was done. It was liberating. He was free.</p><p>“Are you serious?” She scowled. “You get why I couldn’t be with you when I thought I was pregnant, right? That would have been a mess. I wanted a clean slate. I wanted us to start completely new.”</p><p>“You can’t keep doing this, Abby,” said Sebastian. “You only want me some of the time. And every time you do, I drop everything and bolt to you. But you’re right. This is a clean slate. The cleanest slate. We’re done. Abigail, you said we weren’t friends. And you’re right. You know what? I don’t think you even like me as a person.”</p><p>“I love you, Sebastian,” she said. “Why are you making this complicated after all this time? You’re one of those impossible knots. The kind from the myth.” She sighed dramatically and smoothed some imaginary wrinkles from her dress.</p><p>“What do I prefer, cake or pie?” he asked.</p><p>“What?” Abigail was confused.</p><p>“Simple question, Abby. Cake or pie? What team do I ride for?”</p><p>“You make both all the time. It’s a trick question,” she said defiantly.</p><p>“I’m a pie person, Abigail. Just like you. Your favorite is strawberry. The trashy kind with condensed milk in the middle. You love it because your grandma used to make it for you, and you’d hide it from your mother because she didn’t appreciate you having sweets. Because until you developed an eating disorder in ninth grade, you were a little on the husky side. Your words. You know why I know this? It’s because I know everything about you. Not only do I know everything about you, but I remember everything about you. My folder on you is so fat and complete and bursting with nonsensical shit because I couldn’t help myself. Your hands? Bullshit. Your feet, your knobby, misshapen feet are the real treat, and that’s a fact. You know, I thought you didn’t know me because I was insecure or broken or poor, and then I thought about it. It’s because you never asked. Ever. I want to be with someone I can talk to. I want to be with someone who automatically has a fat folder on me. Someone who feels lucky when I tell them the most unflattering, scary stuff. I don’t think I love you anymore, and I got to be honest, I don’t believe that you love me.”</p><p>Abigail’s mouth formed a straight line that went down slightly at the corners. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said.</p><p>“That’s not an apology,” he said. “You know that, right?”</p><p>“I only said it because I know you hate it,” she spat.</p><p>Abigail turned around and walked out. Her hemline flipped up as she spun, and he could see the tops of her gartered stockings. She was a nightmare caricature of a male fantasy.</p><p>That night, he actually sent the e-mail he’d been working on for more than a week.</p><p>To: Jude</p><p>From: Sebastian</p><p>Subject line: Mic check 1, 2</p><p>Hi,</p><p>Okay, so things have been weird. And I know that I made them weird even if I’m not totally sure how.</p><p>So, I’m sorry.</p><p>(Nothing beats a vague apology, right? So sincere!)</p><p>Ugh.</p><p>Hmmm . . .</p><p>Anyway, I know it’s ancient history, and if our autobiographers were to trace back to when I made it weird it would probably have something to do with me not calling you after I said I would. After we saw each other.</p><p>That was a big day for us, huh? Meeting your mom. Having to smile across the counter and pretend like nothing was up. So many exciting experiences rolled into a ball of panic.</p><p>The last thing I asked you was “You good?” Well, are you? I think about it all the time.</p><p>If you’re like, NEW LIFE, WHO DIS? I totally understand.</p><p>If you’re not, here’s a list of things that have happened in no particular order since I last bothered you.</p><p>I got stupidly drunk. Hurt-drunk. It was depressing.</p><p>Abigail isn’t pregnant. And that was strangely disappointing and I don’t know why.</p><p>I started shooting the doc. Finally! I don’t know exactly where it’s going at all, but I love it. Turns out the kid’s name is Nicolas. He goes by Nic, he's a little badass, and he’s brilliant and insane and I want so badly for you to meet him. Badly? Bad? I never get those right. Kind of how “bemused” doesn’t mean “amused” and how I think “nonplussed” means “unimpressed” when it means something else. Does anyone know what “nonplussed” means? You probably do. Don’t tell anyone, but I don’t actually know how irony works either.</p><p>Flammable/inflammable = also confusing.</p><p>Anyway. I miss you.</p><p>I know we’re basically just a series of texts. But I’m glad that whatever led you to me happened. I’m grateful that you’re my emergency contact. Even if you’re super intense and talking to you late at night is as constructive as Web MDing a bunch of symptoms in the sense that I’m almost always convinced all roads lead to death, but I mean that in a good way. I hope you know that it’s my favorite. </p><p>I think I get to miss you. I feel like I’ve earned it. Which I know sounds weird/creepy/possessive or whatever. Our relationship, as abstract as it is, is the best of any relationship, I think.</p><p>You’re intense, so much fun, and maybe a bit nuts, and at the same time you’re super focused and passionate about how you want to live your life and your work and it’s beautiful. Also, NONE of this is meant to make you uncomfortable or put you on the spot (I know how you feel about compliments). You give the best advice (for a kid etc., etc., etc.).</p><p>I’m happy to know you exist. And even though I feel like I screwed things up, I thought I’d let you know. And to remind you that I exist also. I hope you’ve been good. You good? Let me know.</p><p>*all the best emojis even the embarrassing girlie ones*</p><p>—S.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>Well, that was it. Jude and Sebastian were officially multiplatform.</p><p>Jude texted him.</p><p>J: Hi</p><p>You’re a crap emergency contact btw</p><p>If there’s no response to “You good?”</p><p>the correct response is to send paramedics</p><p>Everybody knows that</p><p>She waited.</p><p>S: Great point</p><p>Such an amateur</p><p>Hi</p><p>J: I got your email</p><p>S: I’m glad you’re not dead</p><p>J: No thanks to you</p><p>S: I KNOW</p><p>I’m sorry</p><p>I missed you</p><p>J: Me too</p><p>S: Pretty good email right?</p><p>She had to hand it to him. It was the best one she’d ever gotten.</p><p>J: Are you at home?</p><p>It had taken half a beer and some serious hand wringing and five outfit changes, but Jude felt it was time for a grand gesture of her own. She didn’t even have to entertain her usual decision tree.</p><p>She’d texted him from his porch.</p><p>S: Yeah wrapping up some computer stuff</p><p>J: OK well I’m outside</p><p>S: What?</p><p>Here?</p><p>J: On the swing</p><p>S: My swing???</p><p>Sebastian walked out of the side door into the dark night with his phone in his hand. His face was lit blue. He continued to type.</p><p>Whoa serious escalation</p><p>Jude smiled and typed back:</p><p>Boom</p><p>“Hey,” he called out. “I guess we’re doing this now?”</p><p>“Guess so! It’s scary.” The swing creaked beneath her.</p><p>Sebastian laughed.</p><p>This time she had picked the perfect outfit. Jude wore Haley’s dress again. Her feet were still healing, so she’d put on sneakers, and while she’d applied lipstick, she’d changed her mind and smudged it off onto the back of her hand like a sophisticated young lady. And to make absolutely sure that she wasn’t too exposed, she threw a ratty hoodie over the top. A perfectly Jude outfit. She stood up, which signaled the motion detector floodlight from the back to blind them both.</p><p>“Hell of an entrance,” Sebastian said, lifting his arm up to shield his face.</p><p>“Sorry to bust in on you like this,” she stammered. Jude couldn’t believe it was happening. “If you’re busy I can . . .”</p><p>“Yeah, right,” he said, herding her into the side door. “Just come in.”</p><p>Jude followed him into the kitchen. He grabbed a stool, parked it next to the steel workbench, and made her a cup of tea. She took it gratefully and sat.</p><p>“Hungry?”</p><p>She was.</p><p>Sebastian set to work. He didn’t ask her what she wanted. He peered into the fridge, pulled out some plastic tubs, some bacon and eggs, and palmed a half loaf of bread. They didn’t talk while he assembled. She watched as he grabbed bits of chopped-up ingredients from the tubs and tossed them into the pan. He toasted big, thick slices of bread with olive oil in the broiler and fried up the bacon and eggs and assembled everything into two enormous sandwiches that he cut into diagonal slices. He set one down in front of her.</p><p>“No cheese on yours,” he said. “Because of the whole lactose intolerance thing your mom mentioned.” Jude smiled and stared at her sandwich. She grabbed half and squished it to see if she could negotiate it into her mouth.</p><p>“Pretty good,” she said, taking a heroic bite. Part of the gooey egg yolk slid down her chin.</p><p>Sebastian laughed and handed her a napkin.</p><p>“Hot sauce?” he offered. She took it.</p><p>“So,” she said. “That’s crazy about MzAbbyXO.” She hated that she’d brought her up so early in their conversation. Ugh, and she really hated that she’d called her by her Insta name.</p><p>It was a self-sabotaging instinct she couldn’t resist.</p><p>Sebastian laughed. “Her name’s Abigail.” He took a bite of his own sandwich.</p><p>Abigail was so much less scarier than Abby for some reason.</p><p>“I was so relieved I didn’t pass out or have a panic attack or spontaneously combust when she showed up,” he said. “Both times she turned up.”</p><p>Jude wondered how much detail he’d go into. If they’d made out on every sofa at the Saloon, she didn’t want to hear about it.</p><p>“She sounds tough.”</p><p>Sebastian nodded again. “Yeah, no panic attacks the first night, but I did get wasted on the second,” he said. “Like I’d mentioned in the e-mail.”</p><p>“With her?”</p><p>“Ew, no,” he said. After a pause he added, “I don’t know why I said ‘ew.’ ”</p><p>They laughed.</p><p>“I got drunk at home as a self-respecting, proper alcoholic.”</p><p>“Are you an alcoholic?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he said. “And I haven’t decided if I’ve quit for life, like, no champagne on my wedding day or what, only that it’s bad for me right now. . . .”</p><p>Jude missed this. Talking to someone about deeply personal things. She snuck a peek and then shied away because he was chewing and she would want the privacy.</p><p>“You know, it’s funny, but I got drunk recently too. For the second time ever.” She took a sip of tea.</p><p>“Yeah? How was it?”</p><p>“Fascinating,” she said.</p><p>Sebastian laughed. God, she loved that laugh.</p><p>“How so?”</p><p>Jude tried not to get derailed staring into his eyes. They were deep brown but tinged at the edges with a way lighter hazel.</p><p>She cleared her throat.</p><p>“Well, it is a highly effective social lubricant,” she said. “Diminished inhibitions, the whole works. It makes everything so much easier. All the whirring that’s usually going on in my brain shuts the hell up.”</p><p>“But the whirring’s good,” he said. “Your whirring’s good.”</p><p>She smiled.</p><p>Sebastian smiled back.</p><p>She died.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s exhausting though.”</p><p>“So, it was a break?” he asked. “Like a you vacation?”</p><p>“Exactly,” she said. “Everybody needs a them vacation.”</p><p>“And you had fun?”</p><p>“I had a blast,” she said. “I made a new friend too—Elliott. I guess he was an old friend. He helps Penny teach sometimes, and booze made it so much easier to talk to him. I was enchanting.”</p><p>Sebastian laughed.</p><p>Jude didn’t know why she was blathering on about Elliott. She wanted to reassure Sebastian that it was okay. That he could talk about Abigail if he needed to. At least for a second.</p><p>“We share a couple of interests and he's writing a story that seems to be going well,” she said. “He’s crazy smart.”</p><p>“That’s great,” said Sebastian. “Wait, I gotta ask you . . .”</p><p>Jude held her breath.</p><p>“Who is your boyfriend? It’s been bothering me that I never once heard of this guy until your mom brought him up. Not that you have to tell me everything, but when I was going on and on about Abigail, you could have said something. I hope I wasn’t so self-involved that I didn’t ask about . . .”</p><p>Sebastian stopped and cleared his throat.</p><p>“Sorry,” he said. He grabbed a glass of water but not before handing her one. She died again. “Basically, I want you to talk about whatever’s on your mind. Not all my crap.”</p><p>“Thanks,” she said, and meant it. “We broke up.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It’s okay. I’m okay,” she continued, taking a sip.</p><p>All things considered, Jude did a good job on the sandwich. Two-thirds. She picked the rest apart and rooted out the bacon.</p><p>“Now I have to ask you something.” She had to know.</p><p>“Shoot,” he said.</p><p>“Are you sad that Abigail’s not pregnant?” Jude tried the name out.</p><p>Sebastian took a deep breath.</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>So it was true. He was still in love with her. Jude’s heart sank.</p><p>“Did you want to be a dad?”</p><p>“I did,” he admitted. “I sound cracked, right?”</p><p>Jude waited for him to go on.</p><p>“I wanted direction. And I genuinely thought I could foist all my expectations and lack of motivation on this tiny blob and this baby would magically figure it out for me because now I had a reason to exist.”</p><p>He took another gulp of water. “Dumb,” he said. “Like so textbook.”</p><p>There was nothing Jude could think to say, so she stayed silent.</p><p>“Can I show you something?” Sebastian said, looking at her warily.</p><p>“Is it dead?”</p><p>“No.” He laughed. “What?”</p><p>Jude laughed too and shook her head. “Sorry, you just had this look.” She hopped off her stool. “Yes, you can show me something.”</p><p>He headed down the hall and down the stairs, Jude followed him.</p><p>Sebastian flipped on a light. Jude briefly wished she had gum just in case.</p><p>He walked into a dark room and switched on a lamp. “This is where I live, my room” he said.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've got the next chapter mostly outlined and I'd like people reading to know it will contain VERY heavy stuff, past traumas.<br/>I'll be adding tags to the fic once I get it all belted out.<br/>I'll add extra warnings before the start and sum up the chapter in the summary so no one misses anything in regards to the story without there being things that could be triggering.<br/>Thank you for taking the time to read!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Handle With Care</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>JUDE:<br/>She and Sebastian have a heart to heart about how even though things are hard now at least he has his own space.<br/>Feeling awkward after trying to comfort Sebastian, Jude asks him if it's crazy he met her mom.<br/>Sebastian tells her it seems like she's angry with her mom, to which she confirms that she is and has been for some time.<br/>Jude goes in to detail about how her mother got her a tutor because she was failing french. Wherein she begins to feel comfortable with him even though his teaching methods consist of watching movies and listening to French rap music. On a special occasion, (the guy's birthday) he and Jude spend some time together, she sneaks some liquor from her mother's stash and they take turns drinking. Even though it's his birthday he gets her a comic he believes she'll enjoy. They kiss and she thinks this kiss could count as her first one even though it wasn't. Unfortunately he breaks her trust by taking things too far when she said no and all Jude wants is for her mother Tara never to find out. She asks Sebastian if he thinks she is broken.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please take great caution in reading Jude's part. There are mentions of sexual assault.<br/>There is an alternate version of Jude's part written in the summary with no triggers.<br/>Skip to Sebastian's to continue the story after.<br/>Thank you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p>
<p>Talk about an escalation. He tried to see his bedroom through Jude’s eyes.</p>
<p>Jude followed him in.</p>
<p>“Grim, right?” he asked. He watched as she tracked his possessions. A mess of papers on the floor, the box of clothes by the door.</p>
<p>“Not at all,” she said. “It’s wild. I can’t believe I’m here.”</p>
<p>She walked to the dresser by his bed.</p>
<p>“So, this is your atmosphere,” she said, grabbing a framed picture of his dysfunctional family. Sebastian watched her reflection in the glass. “It honestly didn’t occur to me that your house had a <em>downstairs</em>. Do you like it here?”</p>
<p>He did.</p>
<p>He stood next to her. “Yeah,” he whispered.</p>
<p>She turned to him. “That’s good,” she said. She walked into the middle of the room and glanced at his ceiling. “Chill vibes,” she said.</p>
<p>He smiled.</p>
<p>Sebastian took a seat on the corner of his mattress. Jude sat down next to him.</p>
<p>“Your room is soothing,” she said. “I can’t believe you can’t sleep in here. I’d be out like a light.”</p>
<p>He wanted her to touch him, but she didn’t.</p>
<p>Jude.</p>
<p>Jude who smelled of dryer sheets.</p>
<p>He took off his shoes and leaned up against the back wall to get more comfortable.</p>
<p>“How long have you kept all your clothes in boxes?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Awhile, but haven't moved them since the beginning of the summer.”</p>
<p>“About the same time all that other stuff happened?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>Sebastian touched his hair. It was gross and curling. He tried to smooth it down and failed. He pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on top of his knees. Then he decided it was too much the posture of a moody kid and unfolded himself.</p>
<p>“I sort of lived with Abigail off and on,” he said. “Or with friends in the city sometimes. Or at home. I was trying to save money for school.” He turned to Jude. “You think I’m a loser.”</p>
<p>“I don’t,” she said. “I would tell you.”</p>
<p>He believed her.</p>
<hr/>
<p>If you've ever felt like there are things you can't say, or can't talk about,</p>
<p>or felt things that you're not sure anyone else has ever felt before, then I know you.</p>
<p>And I know you probably don't believe me, but that's ok. This is what I know:</p>
<p>You don't talk as much as you should. Or sometimes you do but it's not everything you want to say.</p>
<p>Or you talk but talking is a way to hide how you're really feeling.</p>
<p>Sometimes, it's hard for you to say <strong> “This is beautiful,” </strong>when no one else can see what you see.</p>
<p>Or,<strong>“Here, this is where it hurts, this is where the pain is.”</strong> Because the scar is invisible.</p>
<p>And yet some part of you knows that the truth about everything you cannot say, is that those</p>
<p>words only hurt because you're keeping them in. Because you're not saying them.</p>
<p>They only hurt until the person who needs to hear them, hears them.</p>
<p>I don't want to hurt anymore, and I don't think you want to either.</p>
<p>Listen. We can change things.</p>
<p>
  <strong>—pleasefindthis</strong>
</p>
<p>                                                             </p>
<p>
  <strong>PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE READING JUDE'S PART AS IT MAY BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME PEOPLE AS THERE ARE MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, YOU MAY SKIP UNTIL SEBASTIAN'S NEXT SIDE OR IF YOU'D PREFER YOU CAN JUST READ THE SUMMARY FOR THE REST OF THE STORY, THANK YOU.</strong>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p>
<p>It was the hair that was her undoing. It was floppy. Fluffy even. He was sitting on the bed with his long legs stretched out in front of him, his back against the wall. She wanted to touch the tuft in the back, the craziest part of the cowlick, even though she knew it to be a huge violation of personal space. It also killed her that she couldn’t poke through the small hole in the knee of his jeans to see if it felt the same as the hole in her jeans. The whole thing was demented.</p>
<p>“So, yeah, things are rough at the moment,” he said.</p>
<p>Jude turned to face him. “Not completely,” she said, and scooched over to him, mindful to keep her shoes off his bed. “In fact, you’re lucky that you have a place to go.”</p>
<p>Jude placed her paw on top of Sebastian’s hand, which lay on the bed. She had no idea why. She hadn’t considered until that second how it might be a thing he noticed.</p>
<p>She faltered. Not quite knowing what to do next, she concentrated on keeping the pressure light. Nobody wanted a clammy dead hand on theirs.</p>
<p>“Besides, this place is cozy as hell,” she continued.</p>
<p>“You’re right.” He shifted his hand.</p>
<p>Then for no other reason than to up the ante on the awkward Olympics, Jude blurted: “Is it crazy that you’ve met my mom?”</p>
<p>He laughed. It was a good distraction. Jude snatched back her hand to pretend the incident hadn’t occurred and shoved it in her hoodie pocket.</p>
<p>“You seem mad at her,” he said.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” she responded glumly.</p>
<p>She was mad at her. It wasn’t as cut-and-dried as Sebastian’s thing with Robin, but Jude was furious at Tara. Had been for a while.</p>
<p>“It goes back to when my mom got me a tutor because I brought home a C in French,” she began. “Not that she’s a stereotypical tiger mom or anything. Just that she thinks French is too ‘chic’ to flunk.”</p>
<p>Her tutor, David, was nineteen, pale, kinda on the chubby side, with long, spidery fingers and brown hair that fell to his chin in front. He was half-white and half-Filipino, and pretty tall, though his clothes could’ve fit Jude. It was as if at fourteen he’d decided he was done buying new ones. His T-shirts barely covered his midriff, and it was a dead giveaway that he was peculiar. And his eyes . . . His eyes were beautiful. One yellow-green, the other gray-blue. It was called complete heterochromia. He’d explained how he’d gotten it—hereditarily speaking—and drawn a chart while talking about pea plants, but Jude didn’t harbor a crush yet, so she ignored the finer points.</p>
<p>“David was this whiz kid computer programmer.” Her voice sounded far away. Detached. “His dad was this big deal at IBM back in the day and was friends with my mom. Whatever, my mom was friends with everyone. Still is.”</p>
<p>Most of the time Jude didn’t give Tara anything to worry about. She only ever got As and Bs. Then, at the end of sophomore year, when it was looking like Jude would end up with a C, Tara called David.</p>
<p>His teaching methodology was suspect at best. David came by twice a week to show Jude pirated French movies that she’d seen before with the English captions switched off. Usually Amélie or Breathless. They’d read books from the artist Moebius and Asterix and Obelix comics, a series about two ancient warriors, and listened to French rap music that to Jude’s ears was exactly like American rap except way more politicized.</p>
<p>They spoke jokey nonsense French in horrible accents.</p>
<p>“Attend! Pourquoi le Sasquatch abandonnerait son sac à main?”</p>
<p>Wait! Why would the Sasquatch leave his handbag?</p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>“Asterix et Obelix veulent faire l’amour doux, doux, à l’autre. Il est évident, n’est-ce pas?”</p>
<p>Asterix and Obelix want to make sweet, sweet love to each other. Duh, right?</p>
<p>David spoke four languages. When he turned fifteen he won a fellowship for one hundred thousand dollars to skip college and work at Joja Co., but he didn’t go because he said he didn’t want to be bourgeois. They ate snacks and secretly drank Tara’s white wine while watching La Déesse!, a French cooking show where a well-intentioned woman with colorful blouses made elaborate meals for her husband.</p>
<p>He was the first boy she’d felt entirely comfortable around. She could eat wet foods in front of him and be opinionated and goofy. They even mostly argued well. He detested inconsistency or contradiction. When Jude told him she was lactose intolerant, David acted as if he’d caught her in a lie when she ate tuna salad in front of him. He couldn’t believe mayo didn’t have milk in it until they Googled it.</p>
<p>August seventeenth was David’s birthday. Tara had gone to bed right after dinner, and Jude had snuck an entire bottle of zinfandel from her mom’s stash. She and David passed it back and forth while watching Ysel, the star of La Déesse!, make duck aspic. They were sitting on the couch. Actually, he was sitting. Her legs were flung on top of his, and she was practically lying down. She had to sit up every time she talked to him in case she had a double chin from that angle, and she worried that her cheeks were as bright red as Tara’s got when she drank.</p>
<p>Even though it was his birthday, he’d gotten Jude a present. A copy of Zero Girl. He handed it to her in a black plastic bag and told her about it as she thumbed through the water-colored pages.</p>
<p>“It’s a classic,” he said. “And it reminds me so much of you. It’s about a high school girl who has these kinda bootleg superpowers and she vanquishes all her mortal foes and she shoots her shot with her guidance counselor, who’s a total G, by the way, and they fall in love . . .”</p>
<p>To Jude the subtext was clear. A dork with a crush on an older guy, a teacher even, and they end up together because she makes the first move! It was romantic.</p>
<p>“I kept watching his mouth,” Jude remembered. “That’s how you’re supposed to show a guy that you want them to kiss you. At least that’s what I’d read.”</p>
<p>Sebastian nodded.</p>
<p>It worked. Jude had willed David to kiss her and he had. It hadn’t been her first kiss, but it was pretty close.</p>
<p>Her first kiss was William Badiani at camp when she was thirteen. He had braces and she was attracted to him only because his mother worked at NASA.</p>
<p>And Noah Medina at the movies, whose teeth banged into hers as he was going in for the kill. He had put her hand on his junk. He was wearing crunchy nylon shorts that had to be a bathing suit. She excused herself to go to the bathroom and never came back.</p>
<p>With David, Jude closed her eyes and moved her lips slowly and imagined how if anyone ever asked, this would be the story of her first kiss. This was the one that mattered. The one she’d worked for. David’s mouth felt incredible. Warm. Soft but not too soft. Wet but not too wet. When his mouth opened and their tongues touched, she didn’t feel nervous. It wasn’t slimy or anatomical. It felt good.</p>
<p>By Jude’s count they’d hung out on sixteen separate occasions, which made them friends.</p>
<p>That’s why what happened next was so surprising.</p>
<p>Jude had said stop. She was sure of it. Or else she’d said no. In fact, she’d said it more than once, yet she wasn’t positive it qualified. He kept going.</p>
<p>“Maybe I said it too quietly.”</p>
<p>She hadn’t cried for help. Tara was right upstairs. Jude hadn’t kicked him in the nuts, as any heroine worth her salt would have done. Instead she lay perfectly still and walked backward from her eyes until she was far enough in her head that she was safe. From the couch, pinned underneath him, she turned her head to the side to find Zero Girl open on the coffee table as David stabbed her in the guts with his dick. His dick was purple. Cartoon purple. When he pulled on the lurid condom, she couldn’t believe it was such a bright and happy color. It had taken a few times for him to get it right, and Jude didn’t know why she didn’t scream or rip it out of his hands while he loomed above her. She just knew that she didn’t. She didn’t do any of the things that absolutely anyone with a brain knows to do. All she wanted was for Tara not to see. </p>
<p>“It’s not as if he beat me up or anything,” said Jude.</p>
<p>“It was so embarrassing,” she continued. “And the thing that’s so confusing is that I didn’t get mad. It felt inevitable in some ways. An obvious conclusion. I saw him two more times after that and was polite.”</p>
<p>She gazed at Sebastian. He had a serious expression on his face.</p>
<p>“I’m practically fluent in French now,” she said. “My mom thinks it’s because of him when it’s not. He was proficient at best.”</p>
<p>Jude was dying to know what Sebastian was thinking. She’d never told the story to anyone else.</p>
<p>“Do you think I’m broken?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p>
<p>Sebastian couldn’t believe a brain as animated and complex as Jude’s had to conk up against that question. It hurt his heart.</p>
<p>“No,” he said. “I don’t think you’re broken.” Sebastian pulled her body against his and she let him. He felt her stiffen and then fall slack like one of those rag-doll cats that go limp when you pick them up.</p>
<p>She yawned into his chest. They leaned up against each other for a while.</p>
<p>“I gotta go,” she said, pulling away from him. Sebastian wanted to stop her but knew that he shouldn’t. “I’m tired.” She stood up.</p>
<p>Jude swung sleepily side-to-side while walking out. He followed her down the hall.</p>
<p>“Should I come with you?” he called out.</p>
<p>“Don’t be silly,” she said, swatting the air. “I live a few blocks away.”</p>
<p>Jude zipped up her hoodie and pulled the hood down low.</p>
<p>“I’ll be fine.” He wanted to hug her. In fact, he wanted to hug her and then build an electrified fence around her. A fence that was encircled by a moat filled with rabid, starving alligators. It was ridiculous, yet Sebastian hadn’t thought how nerds could be rapists. He thought of rapists as meat-head jocks or else vile faceless monsters who were abused as kids. Part of him was glad she was going to go back inside his phone. It was safe there and Sebastian had so much he wanted to tell her and ask her that was too overwhelming to do in person.</p>
<p>“I know,” he said, throwing on a black jacket. “But I’ll make you a deal. Next time I show up at your house unannounced, you can walk me home.”</p>
<p>Jude smiled sleepily.</p>
<p>“My sandwiches aren’t as good though.”</p>
<p>“That’s because I am king of the sandwiches.”</p>
<p>“I think he was an earl,” she muttered.</p>
<p>He groaned.</p>
<p>Sebastian smiled at the back of her head as they trudged up the stairs. He killed the lights and locked up. The night was cool. Just the tiniest suggestion that there was such a thing as autumn in Pelican Town.</p>
<p>They walked companionably in silence. Both with their hands shoved in their pockets. Sebastian listened to their footfalls, hers alongside his.</p>
<p>“This is me,” she said after a while, stopping at her front door.</p>
<p>He gazed up. “You know,” he said, “I used to see this building all the time and it didn’t occur to me that people have to live here, even though they have.”</p>
<p>Jude laughed. “Ah, but when you’re inside,” she said, “you can’t see it.”</p>
<p>“What a parable,” he said.</p>
<p>“What is a parable?” she asked, tilting her head. “I always forget to look it up, but then again, I’m talking to someone who doesn’t even know what irony is, so . . .”</p>
<p>He laughed. “Nobody knows. That’s a fact. Just like nobody knows the difference between a parable and an allegory. Do you?”</p>
<p>She smiled. “No idea.”</p>
<p>“See?”</p>
<p>They grinned stupidly at each other.</p>
<p>“I think an allegory has to do with characters,” she said. “Something-something Animal Farm?”</p>
<p>“Citation needed,” he responded quickly.</p>
<p>God, they were hopeless.</p>
<p>“Thanks for the food, and the talk, and for being great, and for walking me home,” she said.</p>
<p>They stood regarding each other on her front porch, wondering who was going to make the next move and what exactly it would be.</p>
<p>Sebastian quit while he was ahead. He left his hands in his pockets instead of reaching for her as he desperately wanted to.</p>
<p>“Sweet dreams, Jude,” he said.</p>
<p>“You too, Sebby,” she said.</p>
<p>Hearing her say “Sebby” liquefied his guts.</p>
<p>She smiled.</p>
<p>“You ever think about the last time you wished on a star and hoped it would come true, I feel like mine just did?”</p>
<p>He blinked at her and shook his head. He wanted to crush her with the fierceness of his hug. Either that or he wanted to bite her on the face. Why so cute?</p>
<p>Sebastian watched her go.</p>
<p>“Yo, text me when you get home,” she said just as she was beginning to shut the door.</p>
<p>“Yo,” he said, laughing. “Got it.”</p>
<p>Sebastian thought of a million cooler things to say, but more than anything he wished he’d kissed her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>“You cannot fix me because I am not broken.<br/>And even though everything has changed,<br/>I am still more than I've ever been.”</p>
<p>I hope everyone has had a good week! If there are any problems regarding this particular chapter please let me know and I will change it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The Pact</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jude and Sebastian make a pact.<br/>Sebastian continues his filming project.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>BASH</p><p>Today 11:36 PM</p><p>Home</p><p>Jude was half tempted to wait until two a.m. to text him back, as he’d done in the beginning, but she was too excited. She was in bed when her phone chimed. She wondered if Sebastian would ever come over to her room.</p><p>Her phone chimed again.</p><p>You do know that it counts right?</p><p>What happened to you counts</p><p>Tears sprang from the corners of Jude’s eyes as she lay on her back with her phone held aloft.</p><p>God. Sebastian was perfect. This was good and this is what he had to offer her, and Jude knew that she had to find a way to be grateful. What choice did she have? And even if one day something happened between them, something wonderful and terrifying that tested their friendship, what would ultimately come of it? Romance was volatile, and if they came out of it with less than they had going in, she would be devastated. Jude couldn’t go back to not having Sebastian in her life. This way, she could make sure they’d always be there for each other. As friends. As emergency contacts. That was the deal. That’s the deal it had always been.</p><p>Jude knew how lucky she was to have him at all. She trusted Sebastian and he trusted her. That was huge. They may as well have sliced their thumbs and pressed them together in a blood oath.</p><p>J: I’m glad you’re home</p><p>S: Are you still sleepy?</p><p>Jude was wired.</p><p>J: I may never sleep again.</p><p>CALL FROM SEBASTIAN</p><p>Jude’s heart skipped. She picked up.</p><p>“Hey,” he said. “It’s Sebastian.”</p><p>She laughed.</p><p>“I dunno, I think we’re moving way too fast, Sebastian.” She could hear him chuckle. Jude pictured him on his scrawny mattress in the room down the stairs. She liked that she knew where to orient him in the world.</p><p>“Right? We’re reckless,” he said.</p><p>“Crazy,” she agreed.</p><p>“Hey, let’s make a pact.”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Great, I’ll pick up your soul in a half hour. G’bye!”</p><p>Jude laughed. “What’s the pact?”</p><p>“Let’s be friends,” he said, suddenly serious. “Real ones.”</p><p>Jude nodded as tears coursed down her cheeks. “We are friends,” she said lightly. She breathed quietly so he couldn’t hear her cry.</p><p>“Yeah, I know that, but let’s be so good to each other.”</p><p>“Deal.”</p><p>“You know why I called?” asked Sebastian.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because I don’t want you to punish me for knowing too much,” he said.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Don’t, like, go away because you told me things,” he said. “Don’t decide things are weird.”</p><p>“I’m not the who decided last time . . .”</p><p>“I know,” he said. “Let’s both not is what I’m saying. Don’t drag the entire me folder into the desktop trash can so you hear the paper-rustling sound.”</p><p>“You can’t ask me that. The paper-rustling sound is too satisfying.”</p><p>“Just don’t be weird with me. And I promise not to be weird with you.”</p><p>“Okay,” she said.</p><p>They sat in silence.</p><p>“Do you think I should have reported him to the cops?” Jude had many sleepless nights thinking about that.</p><p>“I think you should do whatever is right by you.”</p><p>“What if he did it again? After me?”</p><p>“That’s on him, not you.”</p><p>“Do you think I should have told my mom?”</p><p>“Not if you didn’t want to,” he said. “I’m pretty sure whatever you want is okay.”</p><p>“Okay,” she said. “You know sometimes they make you pay for your own rape kit?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Yeah, you have to go through the swabs when all you want to do is go home and then certain hospitals bill you for tests. And all over the country there are warehouses filled with rape kits that the cops don’t even process. Like hundreds of thousands.”</p><p>Sebastian didn’t say anything for a while.</p><p>“I’m sorry this happened to you,” he said.</p><p>“I’m glad I told you.”</p><p>“Me too,” he said. “I want us to talk about everything,” he continued. “I don’t want to ever not talk again. That was horrible.”</p><p>“Well, I don’t love talking about my stuff,” she said.</p><p>“Yeah, nobody does,” he said. “But it’s pretty big stuff, so sometimes you have to exorcise it.”</p><p>“God,” she said. “You’d think it would be cathartic, but it’s more like barfing after you thought you got it all.” </p><p>“I think once you’re puking so hard you’ll burst a blood vessel in your eye is when the real work happens.”</p><p>“So when it’s just thin stomach juices coursing out of you?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he said.</p><p>“Sans chunks?”</p><p>“Sans, yeah.”</p><p>Jude could feel him smiling on the other side. It made her miserable.</p><p>“This sucks,” she said. “Why so much work?”</p><p>“The homework doesn’t end,” he said. “It’s piles and piles of emotional homework forever if you ever want to qualify as a grown-up.”</p><p>“How come nobody tells you?”</p><p>“Nobody tells you shit ever,” he said. “The trick is having a buddy.”</p><p>“An emergency contact.”</p><p>“Exactly,” he said. “That’s the pact.”</p><p>It was a good pact. It wasn’t exactly the pact she wanted, the one where they ran away together to Tahiti, but it was solid.</p><p>“I’m in,” she said.</p><p>“Cool,” he said. “Good night, Jude.”</p><p>“Bye,” she said.</p><p>Not ten seconds later he texted again.</p><p>Have a willie nice night!</p><p>God, he was such a jerk.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>The next morning Sebastian woke up feeling good. Not sensational or anything foolish but supremely okay. Jude had already texted and all was right in the world. He fortified himself with coffee and headed out to pick up Nic.</p><p>Nectars, where Nic’s mom worked, was a small operation in a strip mall on the North Side of Zuzu City. From the highway, the neon signs in order read: CHINESE FOOD, DONUTS, JUICE, then GUNS. Juice was the only hipster outlier. Everything else was as common as corn bread.</p><p>There were only three stools in the front by the window and a kitchen area with a row of juicers in back. When Sebastian and Nic walked in, the store was empty. Luz Trejo, a short, slight woman whose watchful eyes and delicate features had been inherited by her son, grilled Sebastian. As Robin would have put it, there was no slack in her rope. Nicolas leaned up against the wall by the counter, scowling, holding his skateboard at the ready in case he had to scram.</p><p>“Hi,” he said. He nodded at Nic, who engaged him in a complicated handshake that Sebastian didn’t attempt to keep up with.</p><p>He let Luz appraise him—his dark clothes and his tattoos. It didn’t help that he stank of cigarette smoke.</p><p>Luz asked Nic something in Spanish and he rolled his eyes.</p><p>“What’s your name?”</p><p>“Sebastian.”</p><p>“How old are you, Sebastian?” she asked, wiping her hands on her pale blue apron. Her hands were at least twenty years older than her face.</p><p>“Twenty-three,” he said, suddenly nervous.</p><p>“German?” she asked.</p><p>“Half,” he answered. “Half Polish.”</p><p>“A mutt.”</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>“How is it that you’re associates with my fourteen-year-old Mexican son?” she asked.</p><p>“Mom!” protested Nic, very much seeming exactly fourteen.</p><p>“He skates near where I live,” said Sebastian.</p><p>“During school hours?” she asked.</p><p>“Sometimes,” he said. No way he was going to get caught in a lie with Mrs. Trejo. Luz leaned over the counter and rapped her son on the head with her knuckles. Nic glared at him.</p><p>“Snitches get stiches,” he hissed. Luz shushed him.</p><p>Sebastian kept his eyes on Luz and tried to look responsible.</p><p>“I’m a student,” he said. “I’m directing a documentary about Nicolas, and I wanted to ask for your permission and to know if I could interview you as well.”</p><p>A customer walked in. An older white gentleman with a mustache.</p><p>“Hey, Anthony,” she said.</p><p>“Whew,” said Anthony. “It’s hotter than a pot of neck bones out there.” It was a 100-degree fall day.</p><p>She crowded Sebastian and Nic to the side, out of her customer’s way. “Pineapple mint?” she asked. He nodded. While she made his juice, she called from the back over the buzzing machine.</p><p>“It’s a little late to ask for permission if you’ve already started, don’t you think?”</p><p>Sebastian had no idea how to answer that.</p><p>She handed Anthony his juice. Anthony took a long swallow and studied Sebastian up and down. “If you riled up this one, best of luck to you.” He nodded, fished two fives out from a long wallet pulled out from the back of his jeans and left.</p><p>“What’s it about?” Luz asked.</p><p>“Being a kid in Zuzu,” he said.</p><p>“So Oscar-winning stuff,” she said.</p><p>Sebastian felt Nic watching them closely to see who had the upper hand.</p><p>“Look, I’m a college student,” said Sebastian. “I’m not some rich trust-fund kid, either. I’m putting myself through film school.”</p><p>“Film school?” said Luz. “Sound like a rich-kid plan to me. Why not go into computer programming or something that makes money? Do you know the odds of being a director?”</p><p>“I knew you were going to say that!” complained Nic. “Ask her about art school if you want to have your dreams punched in the face.”</p><p>Luz knocked Nicolas on the skull again. He scowled and rubbed his head.</p><p>“Look, I don’t want to be interviewed or anything,” she said. “That isn’t for me. But don’t shoot during school hours and I want to see this movie before you show it anywhere. I don’t want anything inappropriate.”</p><p>Sebastian nodded.</p><p>“And if you get rich and famous, you’re paying for this kid’s college,” she said.</p><p>“Can it be RISD?” asked Nic. Luz responded in Spanish for a while. Nic said something back and laughed.</p><p>Sebastian knew they were talking about him.</p><p>“Do you want a juice?” she asked.</p><p>“Sure. I’m sure I could use one,” Sebastian said.</p><p>“You need milk shakes more than you need juice, flaco,” she said. She made him something with beets. It was thick and the color of rubies. As he drank he imagined his withered cells revitalizing.</p><p>“Not bad,” he said, taking another slug. It was disjointing. A juice that tasted of beets.</p><p>“Yeah, your people love it.”</p><p>“My people?”</p><p>“She means the whites,” said Nic.</p><p>“What do I owe you?” said Sebastian. He hoped he had cash.</p><p>“Don’t worry about it,” she said, and waved them out of the store.</p><p>They got back into the car.</p><p>Nic pulled on his seat belt. “She likes you,” he said.</p><p>“Oh yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah. She charges everyone.”</p><p>“What were you guys saying about me?” he asked. “That made you laugh. Something about college.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Nic, laughing. “She said I could maybe go to art school as long as I don’t do anything stupid,” he said. “Say, get a bunch of tattoos so I can’t ever get a real job like you.”</p><p>Sebastian laughed.</p><p>“I told you she was cold.”</p><p>Sebastian wondered if Nic knew how lucky he was to have Luz. To have a mother who actually seemed to like you. Sebastian hung a right from the Taco Cabana and across the train tracks to a section of town so dicey it didn’t even have a bar.</p><p>“Park here,” said Nic. They were on a nondescript street near a chain-link fence. Nic hopped out, leaving his skateboard in the car and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.</p><p>He crawled through a clipped hole in the fence. Sebastian followed. Nic scanned his surroundings quickly, pulled out a key, and unlocked a thick padlock on the metal door of a brown building that had graffiti on the front in white. NSB was scrawled in menacingly giant letters, and Sebastian wondered if they were going to get killed execution style for trespassing. “Don’t worry,” said Nic about the North Side Bloods tag. “I put that there so the bums don’t jack my shit.” To Sebastian it sounded like exactly the kind of genius plan that got you killed.</p><p>The kid had made a huge deal out of whatever it was that he was going to show him. Sebastian wondered if it was a skate ramp or a meth lab. Sebastian followed him into the cool hallway, which smelled of wet concrete.</p><p>“Come on, man,” griped Nic. “Get your camera out. You need to be getting all of this.”</p><p>The cavernous room was flooded with natural light. You couldn’t tell from the street, but there were panes of glass high on the wall and the vaulted ceilings that served as skylights. It was a miracle that some hipster developer hadn’t already bought the place out to turn into a design studio or a vegan co-working space.</p><p>“This is incredible,” Sebastian said, panning the room.</p><p>“Roof leaks,” complained Nic. As if he were making mortgage payments on the place.</p><p>In the middle of the space there was a lone folding chair and paintings of varying size.</p><p>The still air hung thick with chemicals. Nail polish. Or primer.</p><p>“So, this is what I’m working on,” said Nic, gesturing at the canvases standing sentry. “Other than becoming the Mexican Nyjah Huston and getting that Nike SB money.”</p><p>The kid painted the same way he skated. The brushwork was confident, clear. The streaks and dabs made sense where they were and held your attention. There was a series of heads, misshapen, with haphazard rows of teeth. Another with angry marker cross-hatchings over brown faces. One said FOR MOM on it with the words crossed out, a mountain of angrily drawn tiny stick figures piled high with a series of interlocking rainbow hearts repeated over the image. What Nic brought into the world commanded the space they occupied.</p><p>“Where do you get this stuff?” Some paintings were the size of shoe boxes, others taller than Nic at six feet.</p><p>“I make the canvases,” Nic said, shrugging. He stared square into Sebastian’s camera. “They’re such a rip-off at the art stores. Plus, those snobby assholes hate when I come through. They follow you around like you’re ready to steal in front of them or something.” He laughed. </p><p>“I rack most of my shit from hardware stores anyway,” he said. “And you can steal wood from any of those big dumpsters when they’re building new subdivisions but you gotta go early.”</p><p>“This is my prized possession, though,” he said. Sebastian followed him to the far wall. It was a silver and yellow circular saw.</p><p>“It’s a miter saw,” he said, pronouncing it “meter” saw. Sebastian didn’t correct him. “For the frames.” He pulled out a box of acrylic paints and showed it to the camera.</p><p>“Shout out to Ms. Masi at Red Mountain Middle School!” he said. “She gives me these because she’s in love with me.” He smiled devilishly into Sebastian’s phone.</p><p>“Why painting?” asked Sebastian, zooming in.</p><p>“The god Basquiat obviously,” said Nic. “He’s legendary. Devin Troy Strother is the truth too. And Warhol. Man, that creepy old dude was the G.O.A.T. He wasn’t even making his own work anymore and still got paid.”</p><p>Then Nic got serious for a second. “I hate Richard Prince though,” he said. “He’s a thief. And Jeff Koons is washed.”</p><p>“Do you learn about this at school?” Sebastian asked.</p><p>“Nah,” said Nic. “Instagram.”</p><p>Art was something Sebastian wished he knew more about. He felt too self-conscious to visit museums on his own and didn’t know anyone who would want to go with him.</p><p>Sebastian walked backward into the middle of the room so he could capture as much of Nic’s paintings in the frame. This moment felt important. A story he’d be telling someone someday in the future when Nic was known by everyone and no longer remembered him.</p><p>They walked outside and split a smoke.</p><p>Sebastian shot Nic picking a fleck of tobacco off his tongue.</p><p>“What makes you think you of all people get to be an artist?” Sebastian asked, focusing in on Nic’s face.</p><p>Nic exhaled a perfect circle of smoke. The kid was so famous already it was ridiculous.</p><p>He tilted his head.</p><p>“What kind of question is that? It’s fucking art, man,” he said, scowling. “You don’t choose it. It chooses you. If you waste that chance, your talent dies. That’s when you start dying along with it.”</p><p>“So he lets you hang out here?” Sebastian brought Nic to the Saloon, where he promptly made himself very much at home. He was sprawled out on a sofa, with his feet up on the coffee table. “You bring girls back here and party with them and shit?”</p><p>“Nah.” Sebastian kicked Nic’s filthy sneakers off the table. “I work here sometimes, man. You don’t shit where you eat.”</p><p>Nic surveyed the premises. Sebastian had promised to make Nic pancakes since that’s what the movie’s “talent” wanted.</p><p>“But you have keys so you can be here whenever you want?”</p><p>Sebastian nodded.</p><p>“It’s cool that your boss trusts you.” Nic nodded toward the fireplace. “That thing work?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he said. “We crank it up around the holidays. It gets pretty toasty.”</p><p>Nic walked over to inspect it. “Yo, that’s cool,” he said, peering into the flue. “You could make s’mores and shit.”</p><p>For his big talk about girls and his budding career as the next Basquiat, Nic was unmistakably still a kid.</p><p>Sebastian pulled out a folder and handed it to him. “I need your mom to sign this,” he said.</p><p>Nic stared at it. “Yeah, whatever it is, she’s not going to do it.”</p><p>“It’s not anything crazy,” he said. “It’s a release ’cause you’re a minor.”</p><p>Nic took it and put it down on the coffee table.</p><p>“Luz doesn’t sign stuff,” Nic said again. “She’s an illegal. I mean, a DREAMer or whatever.”</p><p>“But she runs the juice stand,” Sebastian said.</p><p>He knew about undocumented workers, only he never pictured Luz, someone who was the mommest-seeming mom ever, being one. “And her English . . .”</p><p>Nic rolled his eyes. “She’s been here for over twenty years, dumbass,” he said. “You can’t tell anyone. It’s effed up, and every day she’s mad paranoid that someone’s going to ask for her papers.”</p><p>To Sebastian it sounded like Germany in World War II.</p><p>“That’s insane,” Sebastian said. Still, he’d heard the news reports on ICE raids but had never properly paid attention. He hadn’t had to.</p><p>“Can’t she apply for a green card since she’s been here so long and you were born here?” Sebastian asked.</p><p>Nic shook his head.</p><p>“Nah, she might as well try winning the lottery,” he said. “And with everything that’s going on, if she gets busted now and deported, then what happens to me?”</p><p>With the pity parties Sebastian threw himself on a weekly basis and the panic attack he had about being “almost” homeless and “almost” a dad, there was a woman and countless others like her with real problems.</p><p>“Can’t you fake it?” Nic asked. “Shit, I’ll sign it.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it,” Sebastian said. “It’s not that deep.”</p><p>Sebastian had been on hold for thirty-six minutes when he realized it was that deep. Zuzu Community College’s film department was lax about everything except their beloved red tape.</p><p>“The releases for your subjects and the rights for your work need to accompany the submission. The department automatically enrolls you into a series of fellowships and festivals, along with . . .”</p><p>The lady on the phone kept talking about the department as if it were some ancient secret society with fanatical rules.</p><p>“So, let me get this straight, Lydia,” he said. “Lydia, that’s your name, right?”</p><p>“Yes,” said Lydia. “That’s right.”</p><p>“So simply by turning in my project to get a grade I’m automatically enrolled in this other stuff?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“What do you mean the rights for my work?”</p><p>“This is what I’m trying to tell you,” said Lydia slowly. “You grant ZCC and its affiliates the copyright in the work, and the department is granted the exclusive worldwide right in perpetuity to view, perform, display, distribute, stream, transmit, make available for download, rent, disseminate, issue or communicate copies to the public, telecast by air, cable, or otherwise import, adapt, enhance, show, translate, compile or otherwise use in any media and to adapt as a musical or a stage show.”</p><p>“Wait,” he interrupted. “A musical?”</p><p>“Yes,” said Lydia. “A musical.”</p><p>“If they turn my documentary about a fourteen-year-old Mexican kid living on the East Side of Zuzu painting pictures with his dirtbag friends into Hamilton or whatever, the department gets all the money?”</p><p>“The chance of that is slim to none,” she said. “Lin-Manuel Miranda is a certifiable genius and you . . .” Lydia cleared her throat. “But yes, seeing as you’ve granted the department the copyright.”</p><p>“And I don’t have to sign anything,” he said. “Just by turning in my project they get to do this.”</p><p>“Well, turning in your project with the accompanying releases. It’s very clear in the course curriculum. And as you know, your project is a large percentage of your grade, as determined by your professor, Dr. Lindstrom. I believe it’s eighty percent,” she said.</p><p>“Lydia, have you met Dr. Lindstrom?”</p><p>“Actually, no,” she said.</p><p>“Well, neither have I,” he said, and hung up.</p><p>There was no way Sebastian was going to risk Luz and Nic's future for this. Screw the tuition. Besides which, musicals were the worst.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Up The Creek Without A Paddle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jude takes some time to hangout with her group of friends at the beach.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm aware that Pelican has it's own little beach but I just wanted them all in a car together this time around.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>Jude was anxious about seeing Elliott. He’d texted her after asking her out but she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to date him—that much she knew—but she realized that for the past week she’d been looking forward to Penny's class with nervous anticipation because he’d admitted to liking her. It was on the record and everything. She chose an extra-clean pair of black leggings and showed up ten minutes early.</p><p>He came in just before she started her lectures and sat in the seat in front of her next to Jas. Jude noticed he needed a haircut. A five-o’clock shadow crept south on his tanned neck. He was dressed in a white sweatshirt and matching white sweats and sneakers, and Jude couldn’t believe how pristine it all was. <em>He practically shone.</em></p><p>Jude thought about how next year she might not even see him much anymore because he was definitely going to finish his book and go on a tour and how future-her would be pissed off at present-day her for screwing the pooch right now.</p><p>She squinted forcefully at the back of Elliott’s neck. It was a good neck. His shoulders were killer too. Muscly but nothing that said vain or obsessive. As if he could sense her attention boring a hole at the base of his skull, Elliott suddenly turned around.</p><p>
  <em>Shit.</em>
</p><p>Jude bared her teeth in a rigid smile to indicate everything was perfectly fine. He turned back around and texted her.</p><p>Wait for me after class.</p><p>“Okay, Jude, am I making things bizarre or is it you?” They were standing on the small patch of grass in front of the library that Penny took the kids to during break time, though not far enough in that Elliott would stain his shoes on the grass. “It’s probably you,” he said.</p><p>“It’s probably me,” Jude agreed, and suddenly needed a nap. It was astounding the ways in which her body reacted to confrontation.</p><p>“It’s not that big a deal, you know.” Elliott pulled a matte black cylinder out of his book bag, twisted the top off, and out slid a pair of sunglasses. He put them on. Jude was immediately struck by the competitive advantage of people not being able to see your eyes in a fight. Not that this was a fight. Or maybe it was. Jude had no idea. She made an awning with her hands and squinted up at him.</p><p>“Okay, so what’s the protocol now?” she asked.</p><p>“Protocol?” Elliott laughed. “Well, I think we still hold value for each other in our roles as cronies. Colleagues even.” </p><p>This was news to Jude. Positive news.</p><p>“So we can still hangout and talk about work?”</p><p>He nodded. Jude was elated.  “Because I need your help on a few things,” she said. “I made a spreadsheet the way you told me except I’m not that good at math.”</p><p>“Ugh, loser. Okay, send it to me,” he said. “I’ll have it back to you by the weekend, but you have to help me with my dialogue. I’m holding your pages hostage until you get mine back.”</p><p>Jude duffed him on the arm as she imagined a pal would. “I love the protocol!” she said.</p><p>“Great,” he said, socking her back lightly. “This is probably for the best anyway. You’re so strange.”</p><p>Jude practically skipped to Sam's house.</p><p>She walked into his room and found him sitting on his floor reading a magazine and eating goldfish</p><p>“Suup, Jude,” he said before turning back to flip through the pages.</p><p>“Do you want to go do something?” Jude said, sitting on Sam’s bed. She was still high from her talk with Elliott. She was batting a thousand when it came to friendship. “I’ll drive.”</p><p>Sam studied her face. “Really?”</p><p>Jude nodded and smiled wide.</p><p>“What, did you and your secret boyfriend break up or something?” asked Sam.</p><p>Jude kept her smile in place and barreled on. “Going once, going twice . . . ,” she said.</p><p>“Just kidding, yes.” Sam sprang into action and tossed the magazine aside. “I’m dying of boredom and could use a good distraction.”</p><p>Jude smiled at Sam.</p><p>“We gotta get Penny and Haley too,” he said.</p><p>They swung by their places. “Where are we going?” asked Haley, jumping in the back with Penny. It was such a new dynamic, to have Jude in charge of the night for once.</p><p>“I want to see the Gem Sea from Zuzu,” Jude announced.</p><p>“Yay!” the girls chorused and Sam laughed. Jude felt as if she could’ve suggested anything from the zoo to the airport and they would’ve been game.</p><p>The closest beach was an hour away from Zuzu, but Jude was hell-bent on making it in under two hours, of course there was the beach at home but nothing beat a new perspective even if it was just for a little while. Sam was responsible for the music and Penny was in charge of directions. Haley was responsible for making them stop every half hour so she could pee. The girl had the smallest bladder in the world.</p><p>“Jude, I haven’t seen you in one thousand years.” Haley handed her a Red Vine. The only benefit to stopping every thirty miles was the snack haul remained bountiful. “That party was so fun.”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Penny. “Speaking of which, what’s up with Elliott? He’s so hot.”</p><p>By dusk they’d made it to the halfway point, where there was a glowing power plant up ahead. It was beautiful, like a space station on the cover of a sci-fi paperback from the seventies.</p><p>“Seriously, what or who have you been doing?” Haley poked Jude’s cheek with the wet end of her Vine.</p><p>“Stop,” yawped Jude. Haley cackled. “Nothing. And yeah, Elliott’s great. He’s helping me with some farm stuff.”</p><p>“I wish he’d help me with my farm stuff,” retorted Haley, and they laughed.</p><p>“I’m up to my eyeballs in farm work and ignoring my mother,” said Jude. “Same as everyone.”</p><p>“Oh!” said Sam, swatting Jude’s arm. “Your mom friend requested me on Facebook.”</p><p>“Shut up.” Jude groaned.</p><p>“Yuck!” exclaimed Haley. “That’s such a violation. You didn’t accept, did you?”</p><p>“No,” said Sam. “I mean, Tara is adorable but, yeah, no way. She did it literally the night we hung out.”</p><p>Jude felt her cheeks redden. “Did I tell you she sent Mark, as in my ex-boyfriend Mark, a message after we broke up?”</p><p>“Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?!” everyone yelled.</p><p>“Not only that.” Jude got worked up again. “But she went on a full lurk and told me he was dating someone new. Why would you tell your daughter that?”</p><p>“That’s egregious,” Haley confirmed.</p><p>Penny patted her shoulder in sympathy. “Completely egregious.” and Sam handed her some a water bottle.</p><p>“I mean, your mom’s cool, but sometimes I can’t tell if a cool mom is better than a completely out-of-touch mom like mine,” said Sam. “At least Jodi isn’t thirsty.”</p><p>“Well, she’s obviously not hungry,” agreed Haley. “I’m pretty sure the only food Jodi eats is Ativan.”</p><p>“I love my mom.” Haley rummaged in her shopping bag for a bottle of Big Red. “She’s completely out to lunch, like all moms. I don’t know, though. At some point in high school we became friends. The thing is, J, you can’t ignore them.”</p><p>Jude couldn’t believe that the craziest one in the car probably had the healthiest relationship with her mother.</p><p>“Moms are like cows,” Haley said. Sam shot a glance at Jude. This was going to be good. “You’ve got to milk them or they lose their minds.”</p><p>Haley leaned into the front of the car so both Sam and her could feel the full weight of her wise words.</p><p>“They’re shoplifting teens,” she pressed.</p><p>“Wait, I thought they were cows,” Sam said. Penny couldn’t meet her eyes for fear of a giggle fit and Jude was barely holding it in.</p><p>“They’re both. However, they’re more shoplifting teens because it’s not about the intention. It’s about the at-tention.”</p><p>That did Sam in. He cackled boisterously, Penny soon followed.</p><p>“What are you talking about?” said Sam</p><p>“Wait, I actually think I know what you’re getting at, Haley,” said Jude “You’re saying that ignoring my mom isn’t the right way to go because her cow milk or need for attention or whatever gets insane and she’ll burst or do something stupid. But if I pay consistent attention to her, she’ll chill the F out.”</p><p>“Exactly,” said Haley, sticking her tongue out at both Sam and Penny while leaning back into her seat satisfied.</p><p>There were worse theories.</p><p>“But what if your mom is the most annoying human in the universe?” asked Jude.</p><p>“Dude.” Sam knew the answer to this one. “Every mom is the most annoying human in the universe, but most of them, besides the super-abusive genuinely bad ones, are in your corner.”</p><p>“You know what I do that helps?” Apparently Haley wasn’t done dispensing gems. “I imagine how my mom would feel if she could overhear the mean shit I said about her. It makes me say way less mean shit, which makes me think way less mean shit. It works.”</p><p>Jude’s heart sank. It would destroy Tara to know how she felt about her and what she’d been keeping from her. Pushing her away was Jude’s way of protecting her. Of protecting them both.</p><p>“Okay,” said Haley, interrupting her thoughts. “Enough about moms. We’re going to play a game. We’re going to go around in a circle and ask questions and answer them truthfully.”</p><p>“So, truth or truth?” asked Penny.</p><p>“Yeah,” said Sam. “Although I already know everything about Haley because she and I are the most oversharing people in the universe it seems.”</p><p>“How very dare you!” said Haley in mock outrage. “Though in the spirit of full disclosure: Everyone may as well know that I have a UTI and am drinking boatloads of cranberry juice because of the sheer volume of sex I had this past week. Hence my current rate of peeing.”</p><p>“Wait, I thought Ben left,” said Penny.</p><p>“He did,” replied Haley. “That’s why it’s a particularly sordid truth.”</p><p>“J’accuse!” exclaimed Sam.</p><p>“Okay, me first,” said Sam, flipping on the dome light so the car resembled an interrogation room. “Jude,” he boomed in a TV-announcer voice, “did you or did you not recently sleep with someone who is responsible for giving you that radiant, highly irritating glow?”</p><p>That was easy. “No,” she said.</p><p>“I’m dubious,” said Haley. Jude glanced at Haley in the rearview.</p><p>“I’m a bad liar,” Jude told her.</p><p>“That’s true,” confirmed Sam. “And it’s not Elliott?”</p><p>Jude smiled.</p><p>“It is Elliott!” Penny swatted her arm.</p><p>Jude wiped the grin off her face. “It isn’t. I promise!”</p><p>“My turn,” said Haley.</p><p>“Wait, isn’t it my turn?” asked Jude. She wondered if this was a thinly veiled attempt to ask her a series of deeply invasive questions.</p><p>“You’ll go right after,” said Haley. “Besides, this question is for Sam.”</p><p>“I’m ready,” said Sam, turning to look at Haley.</p><p>“Would you sleep with someone that Sebastian has already slept with?”</p><p>Jude’s stomach lurched.</p><p>“Really?” Sam shook his head. “Haley, why are you such a perv?”</p><p>“I take it that’s a no?” said Haley, grinning evilly.</p><p>“No! We're like brothers, that's too weird.” said Sam.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” said Haley, still smiling. “I just couldn’t stop leching on him this morning. He was making matcha with this little whisk and he looked so deliciously annoyed. You do acknowledge that he’s hot though, like, objectively?” asked Haley. “Because I would bang the ever-living shit out of him if he’d give me the time of day.”</p><p>Penny cracked open a bag of chips.</p><p>“Back me up guys, Penny. Jude. Sebastian’s hot,” said Haley grabbing some chips.</p><p>“He’s a type,” Jude agreed. “Great hair.”</p><p>Penny kept her eyes on Sam.</p><p>“He's not my type but he's okay”</p><p>Sam turned and smiled at Penny.</p><p>Haley looked at both and immediately asked “Seriously, when are you guys going out?”</p><p>Penny blushed and looked away and Sam said she couldn't ask another question because it wasn't her turn.</p><p>“Okay, my turn,” said Jude, trying to change the subject. “You guys are going to make fun of me.”</p><p>“Probably,” said Sam, reaching back to grab Haley’s chips. She offered some to Jude, who shook her head. She felt as though she was constantly telling her no.</p><p>“Why do you guys want to know anything about me?” she asked.</p><p>The car went silent. And then Haley started laughing. Penny and Sam joined in.</p><p>“How are you so awkward?” asked Haley.</p><p>“Friends tell each other things, dummy,” said Sam. “And hello? We’re friends.”</p><p>“Why though?”</p><p>“Oh my God, Jude. Stop being so emo. Are you going to make us talk about feelings?” asked Haley. “Seriously, you are so homeschooled sometimes.”</p><p>“Wait, what do you mean?” asked Sam. “You actually don’t know why anyone would like you?”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Jude. “Genuine question. You guys are this official thing. You’re a unit. But you keep asking me to do stuff even though I know I’m boring compared to you, and I want to know why.”</p><p>Haley switched off the interior car light.</p><p>“Okay.” Haley took a deep breath. “At the beginning I only liked you as much as you liked me, which wasn’t very much. But I think we just needed to really hang out you know?”</p><p>That made sense.</p><p>“I enjoy your company because you're smart” said Penny “And dark. You do seem seriously tormented.”</p><p>“And I’ve always liked you,” said Sam. “You’re mysterious. You’re the hella metal dude in high school who’s cool even though he sneers and doesn’t talk to anyone.”</p><p>“And you’re a good egg,” said Sam simply.</p><p>Jude crumpled inwardly when Sam said that. She wasn’t a good egg. Jude didn’t have to tell Sam everything, that she was desperately, hopelessly in love with Sebastian, but she should have told him they were friends. Jude knew it would hurt Sam to have been kept in the dark this long.</p><p>“Oh my God, can you guys smell that?” Haley rolled down her window. Jude could hear the waves crashing in the dark. The moonlight turned everything blue.</p><p>They got out of the car and stretched. The salt air was sticky.</p><p>“Do you have towels?” asked Sam, kicking off his shoes.</p><p>Jude nodded. Haley laughed. “Of course you do.”</p><p>“You’re going actual swimming?” Penny asked. “Now?”</p><p>“You’re not?” Sam said incredulously. “It was your idea to come to the beach.” He looked at Jude as he stepped out of his socks, Jude handed him a towel.</p><p>“I wanted to see the Gem Sea,” she said. “To be near it.” It hadn’t occurred to her that anyone would go in.</p><p>Sam shrugged and ran to the water, whooping before diving in. Penny watched him, looked back at them, and offered them chips.</p><p>Jude took a handful. “Are you swimming?”</p><p>“Oh, hell no,” said Haley. “I only dip my toes in chlorinated water.”</p><p>They could barely make Sam out in the waves.</p><p>Haley hopped up onto Jude’s trunk, and Penny climbed up next to her while Jude leaned on Haley's side of the car. She felt Haley shiver slightly in the dark.</p><p>“Cold?”</p><p>“A little.”</p><p>Jude grabbed her hoodie from the front seat, pulled her phone out of the pocket, and handed the sweatshirt to her. They all huddled closer.</p><p>They faced the water, feeling the breeze and listening to the roar of the tide.</p><p>“Isn’t it appalling that he’s friends with us?” Haley asked.</p><p>Jude was strangely flattered to be a part of Haley’s “us.”</p><p>“He’s so nice,” said Haley. “Decent, you know?”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Jude. “If there were an apocalypse tomorrow, he’d be out in the first wave. It wouldn’t matter how fast or strong he was. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it.”</p><p>Penny leaned forward to talk to Jude. “I love how this is where your brain goes,” she said. “I know what you mean though. God, can you imagine? He’d probably die trying to save a bus full of orphans.”</p><p>“Why would anybody save children during the apocalypse?” said Haley.</p><p>“For anything other than food? No idea.”</p><p>Jude smiled in the dark.</p><p>Haley took her hair down from a bun and shook it out. The wind was balmy on Jude’s face. She was glad they’d come. After a moment she shook her hair out too. “I love the Gem Sea.”</p><p>“We’re going to have the best beachy waves.” Haley scrunched her hair and pulled out her phone. “Get in this with me guys.”</p><p>The first shot with the flash was awful. Straight up the nose with all three of them resembling startled possums.</p><p>“Oh my God.” Haley laughed, deleting it. “Tragic.”</p><p>Jude switched on the flashlight of her phone and illuminated them from an angle.</p><p>“No flash, only mood lighting,” said Jude.</p><p>“Ooooh, you are resourceful,” said Haley. “I would eat you last in the apocalypse.”</p><p>They tried another. Better.</p><p>“Okay,” said Haley, repositioning Jude’s hand and tugging at her arm. “Wait, seriously, is this as far as you go? What are you, some kind of midget T. rex?”</p><p>Jude laughed. When Haley made fun of you in this way you felt like the only person in the world.</p><p>“Here, let’s switch.” Haley became the flashlight as Jude shot.</p><p>“So much better,” said Haley as Jude swiped through the options. In fact, they were the best selfies Jude had ever taken. They were three giggly girls with great big hair doing irrepressibly fun things. Even without the pictures, Jude would remember this night for a long time.</p><p>“See,” said Haley. “Look how good you look when you tilt your chin down like that?”</p><p>“Oh my God, it’s sooooooo cold!” Sam breathlessly ran toward them. “I knew it was gonna be a bitch when I got out.”</p><p>Haley flashed the phone light toward him. He was shivering.</p><p>“What happened to the towel I gave you?” asked Jude.</p><p>Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh shit,” he said, turning back toward the beach.</p><p>“Don’t worry. Jude has an extra,” said Haley, hopping off the trunk.</p><p>“You do?”</p><p>Jude reached into the trunk for the other one and handed it to her.</p><p>“I kneeeeeeew it!” Haley clapped her hands triumphantly. “Oh my God, you’re so predictable!”</p><p>“That’s my last though!” Jude exclaimed. It required heroic restraint not to make Sam go back and hunt for its mate.</p><p>“Wait, I want a selfie too,” said Sam, reaching for her phone. “Give me. I want to check my face.”</p><p>Jude handed it over.</p><p>“Holy,” said Sam, pawing through his hair helplessly. “Drowned rat much?”</p><p>“First wave of the apocalypse,” muttered Penny.</p><p>“Seriously,” Haley said, cheesing.</p><p>“Poor guy” Jude said smiling back at them</p><p>“Look at you all buddy-buddy,” said Sam, eyeing them.</p><p>Just then Jude’s phone pinged in Sam’s hand.</p><p>“Jude, you have to change your ringtone,” said Haley. “I have, like, PTSD from Apex. It’s been my alarm all year. What psychopath uses Apex as their ringtone? It’s such an alarm.”</p><p>“What?” said Jude, reaching for her phone. “No way. Apex is way too quiet for that.”</p><p>Apex kept going off in Sam’s hands.</p><p>Sam’s face was lit up. Then he held the phone out so the other girls could see.</p><p>Jude snatched the phone, but the damage had been done.</p><p>He’d seen.</p><p>Sam knew.</p><p>BASH</p><p>Today 9:11 PM</p><p>Yoyoyoyoyoyoyoyooyoyoyyoyoyoyo</p><p>Come by</p><p>I baked a SHEETCAKE</p><p>Your favorite</p><p>Confetti emoji</p><p>He’d written out “confetti emoji” since he was trying to quit using emoji because he thought they were “emotionally lazy.”</p><p>“Uh,” said Haley quietly. “What psycho sets their texts to preview mode?”</p><p>Jude grabbed her phone and shoved it into her pocket, plunging them into darkness.</p><p>Jude weighed her options.</p><p>Available means to ejector seat from crippling social trauma:</p><p>1. Jump into the car, lock the doors, race home, pack her bags before they return.</p><p>2. Lie her lying face off.</p><p>3. Just tell them everything. It was a simple (very long) misunderstanding.</p><p>Jude wondered if this canceled everything out, if them seeing the texts meant they weren’t friends anymore. She felt like her throat was closing. There was no escape. She felt nauseous. The waves thundered in her ears.</p><p>“Sam,” she said quietly. It was barely audible above the din. Jude wished she could sit down. Her heart was racing. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Wait,” said Sam. “Bash, that’s Sebastian, right?”</p><p>Jude nodded.</p><p>There were rapid-fire questions of increasing volume.</p><p>“Sebastian is your secret Internet boyfriend?”</p><p>“No! Not exactly.”</p><p>“Are you guys dating?”</p><p>“We’re just friends.”</p><p>“Well, then, why wouldn’t you say something?”</p><p>Jude couldn’t tell him that Sebastian didn’t want her to. It would only make things worse. </p><p>“Were you hanging out this whole time while he was avoiding me?”</p><p>“No. We just text. We don’t hang out. . . . Okay, we’ve hung out once. Twice, technically . . .”</p><p>“Jesus, Jude,” Sam said. “He’s the guy, right? The guy you’re into?”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>And from Penny:</p><p>“Why sheet cake though?”</p><p>“I told him it was my favorite. . . .”</p><p>For some reason the cake part seemed to piss Sam off the most. Haley stood beside him with her arms crossed while Penny stood in the middle, taking on what was probably a Switzerland stance. Strangely, Haley seemed more perplexed than mad, though there was no question whose side she was on.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” said Jude. She meant it.</p><p>They rode home in silence. This time she didn’t feel sleepy at all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Wild Goose Chase</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam gives both Jude and Sebastian the cold shoulder for hiding their friendship.<br/>Jude tries to reconcile to no avail and receives news about her mom.<br/>Sebastian accompanies Jude to her destination.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>11:02 PM</p><p>Where’d you go?</p><p>You ok?</p><p>Cake was bomb</p><p>Saved you some</p><p>11:49 PM</p><p>J: Hey</p><p>Can’t talk</p><p>11:51 PM</p><p>S: Sure thing</p><p>What happened?</p><p>Momstuff?</p><p>12:41 AM</p><p>S: LMK if you need anything</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p><p>The downside to Sam being chipper and easygoing was that when he had it out for you, you felt it. By day two of Sam giving her the silent treatment, Jude was distraught. As soon as Jude entered his space, Sam glared at her, cranked up his speakers on his phone, and turned away. Often he blasted god-awful dubstep mash-ups neither of them liked, which is how Jude knew Sam really had it out for her.</p><p>When Jude left a banana on his side of the table when he came to see Penny's lecture as an offering, Sam rejected it. He refused it by putting it on Jude’s chair, so when Jude went to write something, she sat on it. As tiny passive-aggressive revenges went, it was adorable, and it killed Jude that they couldn’t laugh about it.</p><p>Jude hit up her mom that afternoon. She’d been dreading texting Tara, but she had to bite the bullet.</p><p>I’m so sorry</p><p>I won’t make it tonight</p><p>Will make it up to you</p><p>Happy birthday!!!</p><p>Tara would barely notice Jude wasn’t there. Last she checked on Facebook, the sit-down dinner had transformed to a cocktail fiesta with forty-five guests and a norteño ensemble, Los Chingones, that took requests for live-band karaoke. Live. Band. Karaoke. There was no way.</p><p>Sebastian texted:</p><p>He blew me off for lunch</p><p>Sam wasn’t talking to him either.</p><p>S: I called him.</p><p>J: And?</p><p>S: Nothing.</p><p>S: He’s so mad</p><p>J: This is the worst</p><p>Tara called.</p><p>Jude guiltily sent it to voicemail.</p><p>J: I screwed up big, huh?</p><p>Ugh I knew we should tell him</p><p>She'd been walking the kids back to their homes that when Vincent asked if she could help him with his homework before his mom and Sam returned from work she agreed. Jude spent the next few minutes consumed by their work and making sandwiches for a snack that when Sam walked in, Jude was startled out of her trance.</p><p>“Oh,” said Jude weakly. “Hey.”</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes. “Why aren’t you going home?” said Sam. He grabbed clean clothes and angrily packed them into a bag. “I accepted your mother’s friend request.”</p><p>Sam’s stabs at vengeance continued to be the best.</p><p>“Sam,” Jude begged. “Please talk to me. I know I should have told you. It wasn’t on purpose and nothing crazy happened. We’re friends. It wasn’t planned and then we didn’t know when to . . .”</p><p>“Oh, so you’re a ‘we’ now.”</p><p>“Sam, I’m sorry,” Jude said. “It’s a misunderstanding. . . .” Jude pleaded. “It’s not a big deal if you would let me explain.”</p><p>“I know it’s not a big deal to you,” said Sam, slamming a drawer. “I know intellectually that you’re allowed to be friends with whoever you want. Same goes for Sebastian. Which is why I don’t get it. If you’re just friends, if it’s no big deal, why go through all this trouble of hiding it from me? It’s like you’re just shady to be shady, and I hate that.”</p><p>He zipped his bag up. “You know, I made such an effort to be there for both of you,” he said. “I invited you guys to lunch, dinner, movies. Would it have killed you to include me in your plans? Do you know what that feels like? God, you must’ve thought I was so annoying. That I couldn’t take a hint.”</p><p>Jude’s heart sank as Sam shouldered his bag.</p><p>Sam was right. Of course he was right.</p><p>“You know, you do this to everyone,” Sam said, swinging open the door. “You do this to your mom. You do it to me. Penny. Haley, too, even if you don’t care about her. . . . You shut people out with no explanation. It’s so rude and mean. And for what? For a guy who you know doesn’t even like you like that?”</p><p>Jude blanched. Spoken out loud, Jude’s actions sounded pathetic even to her own ears.</p><p>“I make a good friend, Jude,” Sam said. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”</p><p>Jude’s phone rang. She glanced down at it as a reflex.</p><p>“Christ,” fumed Sam. He slammed the door behind him.</p><p>The number was a Zuzu area code. Knowing Tara, she was drunk-dialing her, thinking she was slick by using a friend’s phone. Either that or she lost her purse. Again.</p><p>Jude answered.</p><p>“Hello?” A man’s voice.</p><p>“Hello?” Jude stood straighter.</p><p>“Hi. Is this Jude?” Jude’s heart leapt into her throat.</p><p>“Yeah,” she said. “Is everything okay?”</p><p>She imagined Tara dead in a ditch.</p><p>“Jude, this is your mom’s friend Michael.”</p><p>She tasted acid. “Is it my mom? Is she okay?”</p><p>She pictured twisted metal, deranged gunmen, torch-wielding neo-Nazis. . . .</p><p>“I’m with your mom,” the voice said. “She’s fine. We’re at Metropolitan. . . .”</p><p>Jude’s head cracked wide open and all she heard were the lambs screaming.</p><p>
  <em>The hospital.</em>
</p><p>“I’m coming,” she said.</p><p>“Good, good,” he stammered. “She’s fine but . . . um, okay. I’ll be here.”</p><p>Jude waited for Jodi to arrive and quickly excused herself from the dinner invitation so she could make a call.</p><p>Jude did not know a Michael among Tara’s friends. Her mother had a rotating cast of besties, though Jude didn’t have their numbers. Truth was, she was her mom’s emergency contact, and despite that fact, Jude hadn’t been there for her. She stared at her phone. She couldn’t feel her face, and a wave of nausea engulfed her. Okay, she couldn’t call Sam or Penny. Haley was Sam’s friend, so that was out. She called Sebastian.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p><p>Sebastian ran to the farm with his backpack. He didn’t know why he’d brought it, only that they were going somewhere and that Jude appreciated supplies. He’d packed water, a Tupperware container of leftover sheet cake, spoons, an extra sweatshirt, and a hard-case first-aid kit that they kept in the kitchen. Jude had said nothing of where they were going, though she’d been unnervingly subdued on the phone. Robotic in a way that was worrisome.</p><p>All he knew was that it had to do with her mom. Sebastian wondered how Jude would cope if Tara died. As much as Jude complained about her, she would probably fall to pieces if something bad happened.</p><p>Sebastian remembered one of their earliest conversations about Jude’s mom.</p><p>EMERGENCY JUDE</p><p>J: I bet I’m bad at death</p><p>S: As in you suck at it therefore you’re invincible?</p><p>J: No bad at processing it</p><p>Nobody I’ve been close to died</p><p>S: Lucky</p><p>I’m great at death</p><p>In tenth grade the uncle Sebastian was closest to died of cancer, the same summer two of his friends were killed in a drunk-driving accident.</p><p>J: Sometimes I watch my mother sleep</p><p>and pretend she’s dead</p><p>I cry and cry and cry</p><p>because I love her so much</p><p>but also don’t want her to know</p><p>He’d thought about Robin and what he’d do if she died.</p><p>J: I’d be all alone if she was gone</p><p>Jude was waiting for him outside her porch when he arrived. Her hair was extra big. Jude threw a crumpled twenty-dollar bill at him and it bounced off his chest and fell to the floor. She was wild-eyed.</p><p>“For gas,” she said. He picked it up and stuffed it in his back pocket as he followed her to her car.</p><p>“Thank you,” Jude said, handing over the keys. “I’m shaking too much to drive. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t apologize,” he said, and let her in.</p><p>“My mom gave me this car. It’s her car,” she said, strapping into shotgun. “Did I wake you up?”</p><p>“Nope.” He adjusted his seat and mirrors and headed toward the highway.</p><p>“You know it’s her birthday?” Jude’s voice bordered on hysterical. Sebastian kept his attention on the road, but he wanted to keep her talking.</p><p>“Yeah, I do. Her fortieth.”</p><p>“I mean, technically her birthday isn’t until tomorrow.” Jude glanced down at the time and burst into ragged sobs. “It’s midnight.”</p><p>It was 12:02.</p><p>“Do you have Kleenex?” she asked after a moment. “I forgot my sundries.”</p><p>“Sundries” made Sebastian smile. He handed her the backpack.</p><p>“There’s a black bandana in there,” he said.</p><p>Jude pulled out a spoon.</p><p>“For cake,” he said. Jude nodded as if that made perfect sense. Sebastian reached over and rummaged until his fingers found cloth. He handed it to her.</p><p>“You should have dedicated cases for things,” she said.</p><p>Sebastian nodded.</p><p>“I’m going to wash this and give it back,” she added, blowing her nose.</p><p>“Jude,” he said, keeping his eyes ahead. “Is your mom okay?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she said. “I think so. I didn’t ask any of the right questions to Michael.”</p><p>“Who’s Michael?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she said. “Some guy.”</p><p>“Jude, why didn’t you go to your mom’s birthday?” As far as he knew she’d been planning on it.</p><p>“I can’t be around her.”</p><p>She turned toward him. “Oh God, that’s horrible. How could I say that right now? What if something really bad happened? What do you think happened?”</p><p>Sebastian shook his head ruefully. “I don’t know.”</p><p>“You know what’s so dumb?” said Jude quietly, sniffling. “And I know it wouldn’t fix everything, but I wish I had a dad. Bet a dad would know what happened.”</p><p>“You’d be surprised,” said Sebastian, thinking about his own.</p><p>“God, remember when you were almost a dad?” she asked.</p><p>Sebastian smiled. “I might remember something about losing my mind on a daily basis for a few weeks, yeah.”</p><p>“I think you would have been a good dad,” she said.</p><p>Sebastian’s left eye misted over. “Yeah?” He swallowed.</p><p>“Yeah,” she said. “You’d be fun when you weren’t being the most depressing.”</p><p>“And selfish,” he reminded her.</p><p>“Yeah,” she said. “And fainting. You’d be screwed if you had a daughter though. You’d be wrapped so firmly around that kid’s little finger.”</p><p>“Yeah, exactly where a dad should be. Holding a firearm and warding off potential suitors until that daughter is of consenting age,” he said. “Which in my book is about forty-six.”</p><p>Jude laughed.</p><p>Sebastian’s mind turned to David. If Jude ever told him the guy’s full name Sebastian would hunt him down and string him up by his balls.</p><p>“When did you start being so mad at your mom?”</p><p>“Ugh, she’s so not a mom.” Even in her anguish, Jude couldn’t keep the frustration out of her tone. “You know one time I ate it on a bike,” she said. “Just scraped my entire face down the street. My whole face was hamburger meat with an eyeball stuck on, and instead of going home, I walked a block to my neighbor’s house.”</p><p>Sebastian nodded. Stories never started or ended where you’d think they would with Jude, but it was important to listen for when it came together.</p><p>“You know why? Because Tara can’t handle blood. In that moment, I knew better than to go home. I rang the doorbell next door and passed out when they answered. I figured that my chances were better off with anyone else’s mom than my own. I was six.”</p><p>So that’s where her eyebrow scar came from. They drove in silence for a few more dark miles. Parenting as a concept was wild. <em>Everybody was winging it.</em></p><p>“You know, I didn’t have a bike,” he said after a while. “I was so poor my bike was an old bean can that I kicked down a dirt path just so I could have some fun getting from point A to B.”</p><p>“What?” Jude croaked, eyes wet.</p><p>“It didn’t get me there any faster, but that’s how it was,” Sebastian said soberly. “You know what else? I didn’t even get to eat the beans out of it. It was a hand-me-down can of legumes.”</p><p>Jude laughed. It was a sad, snot-filled honk.</p><p>“So, cry me a river, Jude,” he said.</p><p>“It’s true,” she said. “I don’t know your journey.”</p><p>“Or my struggles.”</p><p>“True.”</p><p>“Real quick,” he said. “I’m headed south, but I have no idea where we’re going.”</p><p>Jude handed him her phone with the map. They still had forty more exits to go.</p><p>“You know, she’s supposed to be the one taking care of me,” Jude said. “That should be the basic qualification of being a parent.”</p><p>“I get that,” said Sebastian. “But sometimes it’s so incidental that these people are the parents. Beyond the biology of it. It’s not as if they had to pass a test or unlock achievements to be the ones making the decisions. Sometimes they’re actually stupid. Certifiably dumber than you, but as their kid you’d never think to know that.”</p><p>Sebastian thought about how scant his own qualifications had been.</p><p>They stopped for gas, arriving at the hospital an hour later. Sebastian drove into the covered visitors parking lot, killed the engine, and awaited further instructions.</p><p>“Do you mind waiting out here?” Jude asked.</p><p>“Not at all.”</p><p>Sebastian was relieved he wouldn’t have to deal with whatever family drama was awaiting her. Though he would’ve joined her if she’d asked.</p><p>Before she hopped out she hugged him. “Thanks,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek. Her nose was wet. It was very cute and completely beside the point.</p><p>Sebastian watched as she jog-hopped through the sliding glass doors.</p><p>He missed her the second she fell out of view.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know postings have been a little erratic but I've been trying to keep up with my studies since we've got midterms.<br/>Also it's snowing? which is kind of crazy since I'm in the biggest yee-haw state and temperatures were still at high 80's just last week.<br/>Anyway, thank you for reading! Stay safe out there.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Manque d'exactitude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jude learns what's wrong with her mom and decides to leave.<br/>Sebastian takes Jude back to his place and they have a small heart to heart.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p>
<p>The hospital smelled of hospital. The bite of ammonia that was so sharp you immediately wondered what odors it was masking. Jude’s eyes darted around the intake area for someone to talk to.</p>
<p>“Jude?” A thickset, handsome Mexican dude in ostrich-leather cowboy boots walked toward her purposefully.</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>He stretched out his hand. “Michael,” he said. His face was marred with acne scars but it only added to his rugged appeal. “I recognized you from the picture on your mom’s desk. They wouldn’t let me go up with her because I’m not family.”</p>
<p>“So she’s not dead?”</p>
<p>“No. God no.”</p>
<p>“Is she hurt?”</p>
<p>“No, not exactly.”</p>
<p>Jude shook her head violently. She needed information way faster than he was dispensing it.</p>
<p>“We had dinner. The band was excellent. It was time for dessert, you know coffee, cake, sopaipillas. It was that new Tex-Mex place downtown with the murals. . . .”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Jude said, trying not to throttle him. “You’re too slow and inefficient. Did she get food poisoning?”</p>
<p>Michael shook his head.</p>
<p>“Was there a car accident?”</p>
<p>He shook his head again.</p>
<p>“Is she drunk?”</p>
<p>“No,” he said, and cleared his throat. “She ate a weed brownie.”</p>
<p>Jude couldn’t believe it. “What? Are you kidding?” she seethed.</p>
<p>Michael glanced around nervously.</p>
<p>“What are you guys, like, twelve?”</p>
<p>“She’d never had them before,” he whispered. “And she ate a whole one, and then everyone was dancing so she forgot and ate another part when we all told her you were only supposed to eat, I don’t know, a quarter or an eighth.”</p>
<p>“Are you high?” asked Jude.</p>
<p>“No,” said Michael, insulted. “I don’t do drugs. Nor would I ever drive under the influence. I just snuck her out because she was panicking, and I brought her straight here.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” Jude breathed. “So she’s not in surgery. She didn’t have a horrific accident. She’s not poisoned or dead. She’s just exceptionally stupid and immature even though it’s her <em>fortieth fucking birthday.</em>”</p>
<p>Jude felt bad about cursing at a stranger except that the power dynamic here was clear. Michael and Tara were in big, big trouble.</p>
<p>“I thought you should know,” he reasoned. “If it was my mom I would want to know.”</p>
<p>Jude was certain Michael’s mom wasn’t nearly as harebrained and melodramatic.</p>
<p>“Also, your mother and I are dating,” he said. “I don’t know if that’s appropriate for me to say.”</p>
<p>“How old are you?” she asked. Jude would’ve guessed twenty-five.</p>
<p>“Thirty-two. How old are you?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Eighteen,” she said. “Are you married?”</p>
<p>“No!”</p>
<p>“Okay, well, it’s nice to meet you,” she said begrudgingly. And then, because there was nothing else to do for it, they shook hands. His palms were calloused.</p>
<p>“You too. Circumstances notwithstanding,” he said solicitously. “I hope I did the right thing.”</p>
<p>Jude rolled her eyes and sighed. “You did,” she said. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“She insisted someone tell you not to come to the restaurant.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” said Jude. “Thanks.”</p>
<p>She checked in with the receptionist, a short black woman with freckles even on her lips.</p>
<p>“Can you tell me the status on Tara Weller? I’m her daughter.”</p>
<p>The nurse checked her computer.</p>
<p>“We’re observing her,” she said. “She’s on the third floor, and she’s fine. We won’t be keeping her overnight. In fact, we’re wrapping up paperwork right now, and she’ll be discharged shortly.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” she said, walking back to Michael.</p>
<p>“She’ll be down soon,” she told her mom’s boyfriend. He exhaled audibly.</p>
<p>“I’m going back to school.”</p>
<p>“You’re not staying?” he asked. “I’m sure she’d want to see you.”</p>
<p>“Nope,” said Jude. “I’m all set.” She wasn’t interested in wasting any more of her time in this fantasyland of headassery, where the adults were large babies.</p>
<p>When Jude got back to her car, Sebastian wasn’t in it.</p>
<p>Honestly, it was like herding cats with these people.</p>
<p>Sebastian popped out of the shadows. “Sorry,” he said. “I had to pee.” He looked mortified.</p>
<p>Jude started laughing. Her anger dissipated at the thought of Sebastian waiting in the car, executing complicated equations of whether or not he should go inside the hospital to pee. Or pee his pants. Or pee in a darkened patch of parking lot. It had probably taken him a good ten minutes to figure it out. The image was hysterical, and once Jude got going she couldn’t stop. The stress of the past few days, between Sam’s rage and her frustration at Tara and the relief of her not being dead was too much. Jude gasped as her body shook with laughter, eyes streaming. </p>
<p>Sebastian watched her like she was nuts.</p><hr/>
<p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p>
<p>He couldn’t wait to go to sleep.</p>
<p>The drive took two and a half hours round-trip and when he turned onto the exit for Pelican town, Jude touched the back of his hand.</p>
<p>“Can we go to your house?” she asked.</p>
<p>Sebastian looked at her questioningly.</p>
<p>“I just don't want to be alone right now,” she told him.</p>
<p>He nodded and headed for his place. They only had a few hours before Sebastian had to get up for work.</p>
<p>The two of them trudged up the porch stairs at a glacial pace. Sebastian turned on his lamp and sat on his mattress. He undid the laces of his left boot and then his right, feeling as though he were performing a slow, tame striptease.</p>
<p>Jude yawned as she sat beside him and took off her high-tops. She was wearing frilly white socks with embroidered strawberries on them and cartoon squirrels on the heels.</p>
<p>They both stared down at them.</p>
<p>“I forgot,” she said. “These are secret socks.”</p>
<p>Sebastian thought about the secret sides of girls and how much he loved them.</p>
<p>“Do you want the bed and I can take the floor?” He’d have to give her his only pillow.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to kick you off your own bed.”</p>
<p>“Do you want a glass of water or anything?” he asked her.</p>
<p>She nodded. Sebastian figured she could sort out where she wanted to sleep while he fetched it.</p>
<p>When he returned, she was under the covers on the side closest to the wall. She’d left him his pillow on the outer side.</p>
<p>“Is this okay?” she asked, sitting up to drink the water.</p>
<p>He nodded and got under the covers. Since she was fully dressed he kept his clothes on too.</p>
<p>He turned off the lamp. “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said groggily.</p>
<p>“Hmm?”</p>
<p>“How do you think I should decorate?”</p>
<p>“Good question,” she murmured. “I know how disappointed I was that there wasn’t a giant black-light frog figure above your bed. I thought I knew you.”</p>
<p>Sebastian smiled. They were quiet for a while and he drifted.</p>
<p>“Maybe a velvet painting of Juggalos,” she said, waking him up.</p>
<p>They both lay there with their eyes closed, smiling into the dark.</p>
<p>“Is your mom okay?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” she said. “Except that she’s dumb.”</p>
<p>“Everything’s such a mess,” he said.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” and then, “we should have told Sam.”</p>
<p>“Oh, completely. It’s so stupid but I didn’t want him to know how wrecked my life was,” he said. “I wanted him to think I was a grown-up with his shit together.”</p>
<p>Sebastian felt Jude’s hand shift under the blanket so it was a few inches away from his. He nudged his over to where the backs of their hands touched.</p>
<p>Jude’s fingers wrapped around his protectively. “Nobody thinks you’ve got your shit together,” she said, squeezing.</p>
<p>Her hand felt hot and soft. The entire right side of his body became agonizingly aware of how close the entire left side of her body was to it.</p>
<p>Sebastian felt Jude shift toward him.</p>
<p>“Why did you bail on him so much?”</p>
<p>“That’s a good question,” he said.</p>
<p>As Robin fell apart Sebastian had to grow up. Fast. It would have been easier to forget and move on in the city by himself if it hadn’t been for Sam and his constant entreaties for friendship. He’d cheerfully muscled into his life before he’d had a chance to sort out his feelings. Except he’d articulated none of this to him. There was no way he could have known.</p>
<p>“It’s not as if I don’t like him. We’re friends.”</p>
<p>“Well, at least part of you is holding back.”</p>
<p>It was true. When shit hit the fan, Sebastian’s instinct was to retreat.</p>
<p>“Smart,” he professed.</p>
<p>He tilted his head so he could get a look at Jude. There was just enough light from the window that he could make out the sheen of her open eyes. She blinked. Sebastian held his breath.</p>
<p>Talking to her like this felt similar to the interface. Except now the proximity felt like a dream. His heart jackhammered like crazy.</p>
<p>“Even so,” she said. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met. And my favorite.”</p>
<p>“And you’re mine,” he said.</p>
<p>Jude leaned over and hugged him. Sebastian knew this was it. If he’d ever had a shot at kissing her, it was now. Even with their horrible night. And their friendship pact. Sebastian was her favorite person. Not Elliott the author or her stupid ex-boyfriend. Nobody else. Jude pressed her cheek against his chest and sighed. He knew that if he turned his body to the side and scooched down a little, his mouth would be in the neighborhood of hers. Sebastian felt her head get heavy.  Her breathing slowed. One of her feet made little circles on the surface of the mattress similar to when cats make biscuits with their claws, and then it stilled. She was out. Sebastian shifted his waist away from her slightly, carefully, so nothing horrifying would happen, like getting a boner in the middle of the night. He listened to Jude breathe. Within moments he crashed too.</p>
<p>He heard the garbage trucks first. Some mornings it was like the trash guys were hurling them at each other. When he opened his eyes, he caught Jude staring at him.</p>
<p>Sebastian covered his mouth with the back of his hand to best conceal his morning breath.</p>
<p>“What time is it?”</p>
<p>“Five,” she said. Her breath smelled suspiciously of toothpaste.</p>
<p>“Did you brush your teeth?”</p>
<p>She nodded.</p>
<p>“Did you bring a toothbrush?”</p>
<p>She shook her head.</p>
<p>“Did you use my toothbrush?”</p>
<p>“Correct,” said Jude. So the girl who generally abhorred human contact and loathed hugs was not above using someone’s toothbrush without permission. <em>Talk about inconsistent boundary issues.</em></p>
<p>Sebastian got up and walked over to the bathroom.</p>
<p>He checked his toothbrush. It was indeed wet. Sebastian brushed his teeth, washed his face, and ran some water through his hair. He observed his reflection in the mirror. In the early morning he resembled a drug addict on the tail end of a weeklong bender. He was sallow with eye bags. Puffy yet skinny. He lifted his shirt. Yep, still sickly. Sebastian shrugged and took a leak.</p>
<p>He thought about doing some silent push-ups in the bathroom to look swollen and changed his mind. Instead he did two squats and held for about three seconds each.</p>
<p>When he returned, Jude was looking up at his ceiling.</p>
<p>“Don’t you want to take a broom handle to it and scrape it off?” She nodded at the popcorn stucco.</p>
<p>“Sometimes.”</p>
<p>“Do you know what trypophobia is?”</p>
<p>“Nope,” he said.</p>
<p>“It’s this condition where you get grossed out or scared of irregular or regular holes or circular patterns. I have that. Your ceiling’s freaking me out. Don’t do an image search if you think you have it. It’s too disgusting.”</p>
<p>“Do you know what knot is the one that’s impossible to untie?” he asked, recalling his last conversation with Abigail.</p>
<p>“Are you talking about trefoil knots?”</p>
<p>“No, the myth one.”</p>
<p>“Gordian Knot. The one that Alexander the Great had to cut with his sword?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“Why are you asking me this?”</p>
<p>He smiled stupidly at her. “I have no idea.”</p>
<p>“What time do you have to be at work?” she asked.</p>
<p>“You mean at the Saloon?”</p>
<p>She nodded.</p>
<p>“I have about an hour,” he lied. They were going to have to start their baked goods later for the day.</p>
<p>“Okay, cool. So we can still hang out.” She got back into bed and pulled the comforter up. “You know constrictor knots are hard to untie too, especially once tightened.”</p>
<p>Sebastian got back into bed with her, this time taking off his sweatshirt and keeping his T-shirt on.</p>
<p>She stared at him intently while lying on her side. “I can’t deal with your ceiling,” she explained.</p>
<p>Sebastian smiled. It gave him a better view anyway.</p>
<p>“You know what I love about you?” she asked.</p>
<p>“My enormous muscles and my sun-kissed glow?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” she said. “The second thing I like about you”—Sebastian noticed that she’d switched “love” to “like”—“is that your brain goes as fast as mine,” she said.</p>
<p>“So you like that I remind you of you basically,” he said.</p>
<p>They both laughed.</p>
<p>“Exactly.”</p>
<p>“Cool.”</p>
<p>“No,” she tried again. “Most people don’t ever know what I’m talking about. Not ever. I don’t necessarily know why.”</p>
<p>“Well, you start your stories from the epilogue. Plus, none of your questions have anything to do with what’s being discussed.”</p>
<p>“Neither do yours.”</p>
<p>Sebastian smiled.</p>
<p>“But you know what I’m talking about,” she said. “You’ve known from the day we met. Even on text, where there are no inflections or nuance or tone for non sequiturs. You’ve always spoken fluent me.”</p>
<p>She slugged him on the arm. A meaty little thwock. Sebastian didn’t know what to read into it.</p>
<p>“I’m glad you didn’t talk about yourself in the third person just then, like ‘speaking fluent Jude,’ ” he said. “That would have been so gnar. What if all I did was—”</p>
<p>Before he could continue, Jude kissed him square on the mouth.</p>
<p>He didn’t have time to close his eyes, so he knew that she hadn’t closed hers.</p>
<p>Sebastian stared at her for a moment. Then he went for it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>God I having been waiting for their first kiss since I started writing this and now it just felt right lol<br/>I hope everyone had a good holiday weekend even if you just bought candy and streamed all your favorite horror flicks like me though most of them were background noise while I worked on my writing.<br/>Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing this one.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Facing Demons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jude tries to come to terms with what happened and quickly makes up with Sam after her sudden disappearance.<br/>Sebastian wonders what made Jude bolt and goes to pay a visit to his mom.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p>
<p>Kissing Sebastian was nothing like kissing David or Mark. Not even close. Kissing them was pressing your face up against your own forearm compared to this. Oh man. <em>This</em>.</p>
<p>ThisThisThis.</p>
<p>When she kissed Sebastian, it was closing your eyes and opening them to find yourself in outer space. Kissing Sebastian was the universe. It was the Internet. It was a miracle. The part that was most astounding was that her brain switched off to pure white noise, and as she leaned in, she didn’t obsess about the mechanics of her tongue or where the rest of her body was in relation to his.</p>
<p>Jude felt the contour of his jaw under her hand and couldn’t believe she’d gone this long without touching it. Sebastian rolled over her, propping himself up so he wouldn’t squish her body with his. He hung for a bit and—Oh God—he was so pretty that it was unfathomable that he could even see her.  It was inconceivable to Jude that his eyes served any function other than to be admired. He kissed her back with urgency. Her hands traveled around his waist. Sebastian was startlingly skinny. The slightness was new. His skin was warm and there was a refinement in the economy of his build. Sebastian’s stomach was smooth. Jude wanted to run her fingers up and down her own sides to check what she felt like. She suspected her love handles were too fleshy or lumpy in contrast, but when his hands migrated to her middle, Jude shivered.  It felt so good to be this close. Sebastian fell onto his side, wrapped his leg around hers, and drew her in deeper. It made no difference where he started and she ended. Until it did. When his hands moved under her shirt, she stiffened. Jude didn’t have a bra on.</p>
<p>Responding to her hesitation, Sebastian changed course. He kissed her lightly and moved his hands from her front toward her back. It reminded Jude of when people tripped slightly and started running to pretend they hadn’t.</p>
<p>Jude pulled away to get some air. Sebastian’s hair had fallen in his face and his lips were swollen.</p>
<p>“Whoa,” he breathed, and rolled onto his back.</p>
<p>Jude wondered what would happen next.</p>
<p>He reached for her hand under the cover.</p>
<p>“So . . . ,” he said.</p>
<p>Jude rolled onto her stomach and faced him, admiring his profile. He had an elegant nose. She wished she could explore his body and inspect him. Learn him and memorize him. That way she’d know what to miss when he was gone. Sebastian was heartbreakingly, hauntingly beautiful. It made her heart hurt. This couldn’t end well.</p>
<p>“I think I should go,” she said. She didn’t know why she said it. Jude wanted to take it back, but that’s the thing about certain words. They broke spells. She searched Sebastian’s face for meaning, yet felt too self-conscious to keep staring. Jude wished he would text her about what was going on in his mind, tell her in some way that this made sense.</p>
<p>He sat up, frowned, and then nodded.</p>
<p>“Are you kidding me?” When Jude got home, Sam leapt out in front of her and rushed to her. He grabbed Jude by the shoulders.</p>
<p>“Where the hell were you?” Sam shrieked.</p>
<p>Jude stared at him. She was mystified that somehow her friend’s rage had built in her absence.</p>
<p>“I thought you were dead. I texted and called, Vincent said you'd practically rushed out when my mom got home.” His blond hair was messy and his clothing was a little unkempt. </p>
<p>Jude grabbed her phone from her back pocket and held it up feebly. “It died,” she said.</p>
<p>She examined Sam’s face for clues. He looked unglued but not necessarily angry.</p>
<p>“I thought you hated me,” Jude reasoned.</p>
<p>“You’re an idiot,” said Sam, scowling. “Of course I hate you. I’m furious at you. When you didn't answer I used the key you gave me for emergencies, I figured you’d gone to your mom’s, but your laptop was here and your charger.”</p>
<p>Sam walked over to Jude’s desk and pointed. “Then I realized your pouches were here with your backpack, and that’s when I started to get hysterical.”</p>
<p>He turned to grab his phone off the table. “See,” he said, showing Jude his outgoing calls. “Six times I called you.”</p>
<p>Jude sat on her bed, dazed. “Sam, did you sleep at all?”</p>
<p>“No, asshole,” he said.</p>
<p>“Haley had some guy over, so I got home at one and you weren’t answering, which is fine. Except then I texted at one thirty and again at three, and when you were still gone, I couldn’t sleep. Jesus Christ, Jude, what the F?”</p>
<p>Jude went over to Sam and hugged him fiercely.</p>
<p>“You scared me,” said Sam quietly. Jude held him tighter. People scared Jude all the time. Like her mom and even Sebastian. It meant she loved them.</p>
<p>“The dumbest thing happened,” said Jude. They were lying on Jude’s bed. “My mom OD’d.”</p>
<p>Sam turned to Jude, horrified. “Holy shit. What?”</p>
<p>“No, no, no,” Jude corrected. “She’s fine. It is the stupidest thing. She overdosed on weed brownies at her birthday dinner, lost her mind, and had to go to the hospital.”</p>
<p>Sam fell silent and then erupted into laughter, which made Jude laugh.</p>
<p>“I only got back,” she said, skipping over the detail of spending the night at Sebastian’s house and making out with him in the morning and bolting like a dork.</p>
<p>“How is she?” Sam asked. “Poor Tara.”</p>
<p>“She’s fine,” she said. “I met her shit-kicker boyfriend. Who’s handsome, younger than her, and was wearing these insane Lucchese cowboy boots.”</p>
<p>Sam smiled. “That’s so funny,” he said. “How’d she seem?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t see her.”</p>
<p>“Jude.”</p>
<p>Sam nudged her. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me this story the opposite of the way you’d tell it normally? Start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”</p>
<p>“No, that was everything,” she said. “Her boyfriend called, said she was in the hospital. I figured you were too pissed to come with me, so . . .” She took a deep breath. “I called Sebastian and he drove me.”</p>
<p>“Okay, Sebastian we’ll get back to,” Sam told her. “You should’ve called me anyway, you know. Possible dead mother calls for a cease-fire. Even you have to know that.”</p>
<p>Jude continued. “Anyway, I get down there to discover that in true Tara form, she was totally fine. She was in the hospital for no reason on her fortieth birthday other than that she’s a needy, messy monster.”</p>
<p>“Come on,” said Sam. “I’m sure she wasn’t stoked to be there.”</p>
<p>“I don’t care!” said Jude. “I’ve had it. As soon as I heard she wasn’t dead, I turned around and came back home.”</p>
<p>Sam’s mouth hung open.</p>
<p>“You didn’t talk to her? After you drove all the way down there?”</p>
<p>Jude shook her head.</p>
<p>“But, Jude, you’re the one who ditched her on her birthday.”</p>
<p>“I’m over it,” said Jude, throwing her hands up. “I’m done worrying about her. She’s the mom. I’m sick to death of looking out for her and being paranoid she’s going to do something dumb.”</p>
<p>If anything, Tara was lucky she hadn’t gone in to visit her. Jude would’ve strangled her.</p>
<p>“Okay,” said Sam. “Well, thank God nothing truly bad happened. We all make mistakes, which, by the way, you might know something about.” Sam shot her a meaningful look. “It wouldn’t kill you to give your mom a break.”</p>
<p>Except that maybe it would.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p>
<p>Sebastian measured out the flour. He hadn’t made hamantaschen in a while. Robin loved the prune ones best, so he was making those. It was time to go see his mother. She'd gone into rehab not long after the last time he saw her hoping things would work this time around.</p>
<p>As he threw the mixer on low speed, his mind wandered to Jude. Dark eyes. Hands pulling him closer by the belt loops of his jeans. Her breath hot against his throat.</p>
<p>Jeez. What was that?</p>
<p>Sebastian recalled the impossible softness of her skin. The way her hair fanned out on his pillows as if she were floating on top of water.</p>
<p>But then she took off.</p>
<p>Sebastian didn’t know where to go with her and how far. Maybe Jude changed her mind. Maybe she’d tried it out and realized—to her horror—that she’d made a mistake and decided that they were better off as friends.</p>
<p>It would make sense if she were skittish, given the events of her life. But she’d been the one to kiss him first. Sebastian’s mind flashed back to the way her lips yielded to his and the sigh that escaped when his mouth brushed her shoulder.</p>
<p>When the cookies had cooled, Sebastian drove over to the rehab center, he wiped his sweating hands onto his jeans. He knew what she was like when she hadn't had a drink in a while. Demetrius took care of her most days when he had the chance. Sebastian checked in and went to her room.</p>
<p>Demetrius answered. “Sebastian!” he said, and slapped him on the back. “Honey, it’s Sebastian.” You could say Demetrius was a simple happy guy. Though if he put up with Robin this long, something had to be going on with him.</p>
<p>Sebastian followed him into the living room to see that his mother hadn’t stirred from her usual spot right in front of the TV. Robin was angry. Her absorption in her TV watching and the abject lack of effort to glance over betrayed her sentiments. It took real work to ignore someone in such close quarters.</p>
<p>She was smoking a cigarette and drinking a tall glass of iced tea. He remembered when he was younger, how Robin had made the effort to hide the handles of Ten High whiskey. That was, until he’d partially melted a plastic bottle heating up a pizza. Robin kept them stashed in different places in the house, and one hiding place was the roomy metal drawer under the oven. It had ruined the frozen pizza he’d paid for with the last of his sofa change. Sebastian left the gnarled, blackened bottle in the sink for her to see. He’d wanted her to be embarrassed. Robin had started drinking in the open after that.</p>
<p>Demetrius took the opportunity to go for a walk and let them have some time alone.</p>
<p>“Hey, Mom,” he said. She kept her eyes glued to the demonstration on induction ovens. You could cook a whole chicken—a frozen one—in under fifteen minutes.</p>
<p>Sebastian felt sweat sting at his armpits. He tried to look at something that wasn’t depressing. Like the dark brown stain on the carpet that resembled the head of fat Elvis in profile. Or the piles of catalogs that lay collapsed at her feet. Sebastian slowed his breathing. What he was tempted to do was make a movie about his mom. It would cover depression, addiction, and the poison it becomes when you don’t get a handle on any of it.</p>
<p>Sebastian felt strangely calmer thinking about filming her. Sad yet calm. Distant.</p>
<p>“I made you something.” He placed the Christmas tin of fresh cookies in her lap. The tin with gold and white reindeer was hers from when she was a kid. It used to be Sebastian’s stash box, and he’d had to wash it twice to scrub out the stink of burnt weed. “Prune, your favorite.”</p>
<p>Finally, Robin looked at her son.</p>
<p>Her eyes were dead. Sunken. Her hair had been dark once, but as she got older she’d dyed it a brassy, orangey-red. He realized it was exactly the same color as her bronzed skin. The way her cheeks had collapsed into jowls gave her chin and mouth the hinged appearance of a ventriloquist’s dummy’s. Robin’s thin lips puckered in disgust at him, as if she’d swallowed a bug.</p>
<p>“Share them with Demetrius,” Sebastian said. “He knows his way around a cookie.”</p>
<p>His mother didn’t say anything. Sebastian turned his attention to the magical oven that was cool to the touch and made fruit leather for the kids and if you ordered now you could get a second for your RV half off. Sebastian was desperate to reach out and place a hand lightly on her shoulder. He knew exactly how the fuzziness of the robe would feel on his palm, the warmth and familiarity. Yet he also knew that if she flinched or pulled away he’d be devastated.</p>
<p>“All right,” he said brightly, kissing his mother on the head. “It’s nice to see you, Mama. Happy holidays.”</p>
<p>Sebastian couldn’t believe Thanksgiving was a week out.</p>
<p>There were dirty dishes in the sink, as usual. Sebastian thought about washing them and tidying up, maybe cooking something nutritious for her to eat. But it wouldn’t make a dent in the guilt he felt or in her resentment. There was a time when he’d thought he could pull them out of this. That he would man up and rescue her and move them someplace nice. But there was nothing he could do about the raging inside-person’s headache you get when you watch TV for too many hours in a row and her compulsion to do only that when she was drinking or in need of a drink, if she wanted to fix her addiction she'd have to work for it herself, no one could do it for her.</p>
<p>“I love you,” he whispered to the dishes, and let himself out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi, I'd like to let you know that we're basically at the end of this fic. <br/>I think I might split the last chunk into two chapters, I literally just typed so much because I wanted to have a good ending.<br/>Anyways I'd like to thank you for sticking with me this far. It's my first time writing fanfiction for Stardew Valley and I hope you guys enjoyed the story too.<br/>See you guys soon for the last remaining chapters of Jude &amp; Sebastian's story!<br/>I have two other fics that I'm currently working on feel free to check them out as well.<br/>Let me know what you think.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. M'aidez</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I know I love someone when I can’t remember what they look like in any real way. I can never seem to recall whether they’re handsome or ugly or if other people think they’re cute. All I know is that when I’m not with them and I think about them, where their face should be is this big cloud of good feelings and affection.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>SEBASTIAN</strong>
</p>
<p>When Sebastian got back to his house, Sam was waiting for him on the porch swing.</p>
<p>“Hey!” Sebastian said brightly.</p>
<p>“Hey,” he replied.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he responded.</p>
<p>“I can see that.” Sam extended his long legs forward to see how far the porch swing pitched back. “You look like hell.”</p>
<p>“I went to see my mom,” he said, taking a seat next to him. “Which is why the next order of business is to smoke this.” He held up a cigarette.</p>
<p>“Jeez, that good, huh?”</p>
<p>Sebastian sighed.</p>
<p>“Did you tell her Sam says hi?” Sam nudged him in the ribs.</p>
<p>Sebastian laughed dryly and lit his smoke. “I doubt she'd be that welcoming, even to you”</p>
<p>“Wow,” breathed Sam. “That’s twisted. Okay, so I’ve come to a conclusion,” he told him.</p>
<p>“Sounds fascinating.”</p>
<p>“Promise not to get mad?” Sam cast a sidelong glance at him.</p>
<p>“Nope.”</p>
<p>He laughed. “Are you in love with Jude?”</p>
<p>“How is that a conclusion? That’s a question.”</p>
<p>Sam rolled his eyes. “She says she’s in love with you.”</p>
<p>“She did not.”</p>
<p>“Fine, she didn’t say those exact words, but it’s the only explanation. She’s in love with you.”</p>
<p>“Stop,” he said. “You know she’s inscrutable. You ever notice how she seems furious when she’s super excited?”</p>
<p>Sam laughed. “Or when she’s actually furious and starts bawling? That’s a classic,” he responded.</p>
<p>Sebastian thought about the last time he’d seen her cry. How he’d wanted to place her in a bubble and firebomb everything around her.</p>
<p>“So it was you on her phone.”</p>
<p>Sebastian nodded.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you tell me?”</p>
<p>Sebastian sighed. He glanced down at the tattoo of a horse head partially covered by cloth on his forearm. It was how they used to train wild horses way back when, throwing fabric over their eyes so they wouldn’t get spooked by their surroundings. They’d have to submit to the rider’s commands. Surrender.</p>
<p>Sebastian mulled over everything that had happened in the past month. Abigail. Jude. What Abigail had said about everyone knowing he was poor. And how Jude told him no one mistook him for someone who had his shit together. Hiding was not a coping mechanism. It was delusional. He had to let go.</p>
<p>“I should have told you and I’m sorry,” he said. “I was dealing with a lot of stuff at the time, I felt overwhelmed.”</p>
<p>“You should have told me,” Sam said.</p>
<p>“Yeah, but I wasn’t ready to tell you personal details solely because we were thrown together a bunch when we were kids.” Sebastian stubbed his cigarette out and looked at him. “I take longer to warm to people you know that, but you're my bestfriend Sam and I didn't want to add all of my problems on your shoulders when you have enough going on with your dad gone,” he said.</p>
<p>Sam nodded again, but this time there were tears in his eyes. He blinked, and they coursed down his cheeks to fall off his chin in fat drops.</p>
<p>“Sam,” he said.</p>
<p>“You seemed mad at me or something,” he responded.</p>
<p>“I’m not mad at you. Please don’t cry.”</p>
<p>Sam nodded, and despite the tears, he was smiling.</p>
<p>They rocked the swing in silence.</p>
<p>“The thing is,” Sam continued, “I’m also very perceptive. And I get now why you guys did what you did. Speaking of which, you’re both so lucky you have unlimited texting. You know she wouldn’t even pee once without taking her phone into the bathroom? I could hear her laughing in there.”</p>
<p>Sam smiled then.</p>
<p>“News flash,” he said. “At some point, your girlfriend might have been taking a dump while you were flirting with her.”</p>
<p>Sebastian promptly removed any indication from his brain that Jude pooped.</p>
<p>“She’s not my girlfriend,” Sebastian said. His voice cracked on the word “friend,” which made both of them laugh. </p>
<p>Sam swatted his arm with the back of his hand. “That’s what I don’t buy,” said Sam. “You guys both say you’re friends or whatever, but you kept me in the dark because this is way more than that. Seriously, no heterosexual friends in the history of penises and vaginas are that into each other. Plus, you dress like twins.”</p>
<p>“Jude helped me through a dark time,” Sebastian said. “Me and my ex went through this crazy pregnancy scare.”</p>
<p>“Whoa,” breathed Sam. “MzAbbyXO?”</p>
<p>“Just call her Abigail!”</p>
<p>“Whatever. But she’s not pregnant now?”</p>
<p>He shook his head. “We thought she was pregnant, but she wasn’t. Or she was technically. It was complicated,” he said. “I thought I was in love with her and I wanted so badly to be with her. So I was this completely insane combo of happy and freaked out at the same time.”</p>
<p>“Wow,” Sam said, and after a beat, “Can I have a cigarette?”</p>
<p>“Hell no.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” he replied. “Tell me more.”</p>
<p>“You want to know the most psychotic part of it?”</p>
<p>He nodded.</p>
<p>“Part of me was so happy she’d be stuck with me.”</p>
<p>“Ew,” said Sam. “Like you’d trapped her?”</p>
<p>It was so ugly when it was worded that way.</p>
<p>“I was out of my mind trying to figure out a way to get it under control. I had this panic attack and I thought it was a heart attack. It was insane and scary and I had no one to talk to. That’s actually how Jude and I became friends,” he said. “Right in the middle of when I thought I was dying, she found me and took me to the emergency room. You should’ve seen her. She was so mad at me because she was terrified. She kept reciting these statistics on coronaries and feeding me nuts and making me drink her horchata.”</p>
<p>Sam snorted. “Sounds about right.”</p>
<p>“I thought that by not telling anyone else, it would make it less real, you know?” he said. “She was my anxiety sponsor, my emergency contact, and it was perfect. The only reason she didn’t tell you is because I told her not to. I didn’t want you to know about any of this. I didn’t want anybody to know.”</p>
<p>“I would’ve made a pretty good anxiety sponsor,” Sam said softly. “You didn’t have to blow me off so many times.”</p>
<p>“You’re right,” Sebastian told him. “I’m sorry about that.”</p>
<p>“You know, I’m going through things too. Believe it or not, I’m not normally this needy. It hurts my feelings that both of you basically pretended not to hear me when I needed to talk.” Sebastian watched his bestfriend's eyes water. Sam seemed so happy and capable that he hadn’t considered he might need anything.</p>
<p>Sebastian wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “You’re right,” he said again. “I did a shitty job of hearing you.”</p>
<p>Sam sniffed. “I need people on my side too, you know.”</p>
<p>“Of course you do.”</p>
<p>They sat.</p>
<p>Sebastian thought back to Sam as a buck-toothed kid. It was a miracle he’d turned out so sweet given his upbringing.</p>
<p>“God, I wish Jude were here,” he said. “I need a tissue.”</p>
<p>They laughed. Sebastian wished she were there too. He had no idea what the hell he’d say to her.</p>
<p>Sam leaned over and jabbed him in the ribs. “I know you’re a real person or whatever, but, Sebby,” he said, “you’re not that old. You’re basically a kid too. You’ve got your best screwing-up years ahead of you.” He nudged him with his leg. “So everything’s okay with Abby?”</p>
<p>“Abby’s swell.”</p>
<p>“And what about Jude who’s in love you?”</p>
<p>Sebastian laughed. “I don’t know that it’s a thing,” he said. “Me and Jude, we’re friends. Good friends. I put her through so much already, between talking her ear off about me and Abigail. She knows everything about me, even the terrible stuff, and I don’t know . . .”</p>
<p>Sebastian thought about the kiss.</p>
<p>Jude’s pink, coaxing mouth was insane in real life. Out of the metal box. In meatspace on Planet Earth. Her lips were so full that it was as if they were smushed under glass. And her skin. And how she’d looked as she’d appeared to realize how incorrect it all was and sprinted from his room. He felt a tightening in his chest.</p>
<p>“Nobody knows anything,” said Sam. “But you know how Jude’s from a different planet?”</p>
<p>Sebastian nodded.</p>
<p>“So if you like that one, where the hell else are you going to find another one?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>JUDE</strong>
</p>
<p>Jude shambled home. The light was too bright, and her body, which had been fine in the AC of the library, now felt shellacked in a sticky film. She was thrilled at the prospect of blowing off a bit of her farm work today. One day to relax wouldn't hurt anyone.</p>
<p>When she arrived at her place on the farm, Tara was waiting for her on her porch. Sunglasses, hat, shorts, alone. Jude almost wept from disbelief. She wanted to sleep for a year.</p>
<p>“Hi,” said Tara, standing up shakily and removing her shades. Her eyes were ringed in red, and her mouth was already twitchy with imminent tears.</p>
<p>“Jeez, Mom,” she said. “Are you allowed to drive in your condition?”</p>
<p>Jude felt the familiar crawl of brittle rage. She knew it came from concern and love, except it made her want to shake her mother and the nurses and doctors and Michael for letting her travel an hour out of town on her own. When would this woman stop scaring the living daylights out of her simply by existing?</p>
<p>Tara glanced at her tentatively, as if she was unsure of whether or not she was allowed to touch her daughter, and Jude’s resolve broke. Her heart splintered into smithereens.</p>
<p>“Happy birthday, Mom.” Jude hugged her.</p>
<p>“I love you,” she said raggedly in Jude’s arms.</p>
<p>“Let’s go inside,” Jude said. Tara sniffled and nodded. Jude corralled her towards the door.</p>
<p>“Mike said you came by the hospital last night,” Tara said when they got inside the room.</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“That’s Mike, by the way.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t know there was a Mike.” Jude handed her mother her mini go bag. Tara nodded appreciatively, grabbed a tissue, and sat on her bed.</p>
<p>“You would have if you’d asked. He said you didn’t want to see me.” The waterworks picked up steam.</p>
<p>“I should have come to your dinner,” Jude said, pacing. “Maybe if I was around I could have stopped you and your ridiculous friends from doing something so . . .” Jude shook her head violently. It still boggled her mind that her own mother was dumb enough to screw up marijuana. It was so embarrassingly juvenile, yet somehow also old and clueless.</p>
<p>Tara’s dark eyes scanned her daughter’s face. “Jude, why are you so angry with me?”</p>
<p>“I’m not angry with you.” She perched on her desk, refusing to sit next to her.</p>
<p>The words felt hard and foreign in her mouth. Her brain raged.</p>
<p>Jude imagined herself telling Tara everything, spewing out all the shame and confusion about what had happened downstairs as Tara slept. Jude wanted to deposit the pain where she felt it belonged—with her mother. Jude longed to see Tara’s face contort in shock or disbelief or guilt and watch her eyes change as her thoughts locked in place and she understood once and for all that it was her fault. And that she could never look at her daughter the same way again.</p>
<p>“Why do you get to be the irresponsible one all the time?” she asked.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what to tell you.” Tara sighed. “People make mistakes. I can’t make every decision in my life based on whether or not it’ll upset you.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I know,” Jude told her. “When have you ever made any decisions based on my feelings?” Jude wanted nothing more than to power down. “Why are you here?”</p>
<p>“Because you don’t come home!” Her mother stood, finally getting mad. “And God forbid you ever call. I thought you were moving to the farm an hour away so that I could still see you once in a while.” </p>
<p>“Mom.” Jude cut her off. “I have farm work. I can’t do this now.”</p>
<p>“No. I want to talk about this,” Tara said. “While you were growing up I waited for it, waited for the day you’d hate me, because I know that’s how it goes with daughters and their moms. There’s this phase.”</p>
<p>“I don’t hate you, Mom.”</p>
<p>“But you do. I don’t know when it happened and I don’t know what I did. I only know you don’t like me very much.” Tara’s voice broke. “I know we’re different,” she continued. “I don’t make the kinds of jokes that you find funny. I get motion sickness when I read comic books because I can’t read and look at pictures at the same time. But I’m tired of you treating me as if I’m this nuisance in your life.”</p>
<p>Tara sat back down. “Your grandfather left this for US, you and me.” She gestured toward the room. “I work hard to make sure that you have everything you ever need. I know I mess up all the time. I know you’re mad that it’s only the two of us, and I get mad about that too. You can think whatever you want about your dad skipping out on me, but you know what? He was crazy for missing out on you. Because you’re the best. But you don’t get to hate me for it.”</p>
<p>It was the most Tara had ever said on the topic. Tears coursed down Jude’s cheeks.</p>
<p>“I know things are bad,” sobbed Tara. “But you don’t get to punish me if you don’t tell me what I did, if you don’t tell me how to make it right.”</p>
<p>Jude eyed her mother and felt her heart harden. The desire to protect her and the impulse to hurt her were mystifying. Jude’s head throbbed.</p>
<p>Tara reached out to touch her hand. Jude let her and her anger deflated. Finally, she wept.</p>
<p>“I did my goddamned best,” Tara said.</p>
<p>“Do you know how terrifying it is to be your kid?” Jude bawled. “I don’t know if you’re going to make rent. Or if you’re going to get murdered by some stranger that you’re being way too nice to. I had to be the adult. I had to fend for myself and for you. It was so stressful all the time. Why do you think I had an ulcer in middle school?”</p>
<p>“Oh, honey.” Tara pulled her in for a hug. “Jude, at a certain point I don’t know how much of that’s me and how much of it’s you.” She rocked her daughter. “You were an intense kid. So smart and thoughtful and so far into your own head. During your first week of school I got a note from your art teacher saying you had an anxiety attack when you couldn’t finish your drawing.”</p>
<p>“I said to myself, man, this kid has to lighten up. Only I didn’t know how to make you do that. The thing is, being your mom feels an awful lot like having a roommate move in. Ever since you were an infant, you were fully formed in what you liked and didn’t and what you wanted to spend your days doing. Most of the time it had nothing to do with me and I had to get over that.”</p>
<p>“Well, not everyone can be a hippie-dippy free-flow freak show,” Jude lamented. “Do you know how it is to live inside my head? Do you know how much worry I carry around? The amount of math I’m constantly doing to make sure that we’ll stay alive and be safe?”</p>
<p>“You know you’re still alive, right?” Tara said, clutching Jude’s shoulders. “That I kept you alive even when you were a baby and hadn’t yet developed these incredible instincts that you think saved you these past years and this magical computer brain of yours? It’s a team effort, Jude. It has been since the start.”</p>
<p>Jude’s sinuses stung. The pressurized anger that had built up at the bottom of her heart to push up against the backs of her eyeballs was finally out. Her electrolytes would be shot when this was over.</p>
<p>“You’re not some miracle of science, Jude,” said Tara. “You have to give me some credit.” Tara continued to cradle her. “And look at us. We’re fine. We’re a little messy, but we’re so great.”</p>
<p>With Tara’s smeared makeup, she resembled a watercolor. Jude could feel her own heartbeat in her eyes.</p>
<p>“No, we’re not,” moaned Jude. “I don’t have anyone other than you.”</p>
<p>Her mother sighed. “That’s your favorite complaint,” she said. “Even when you were teeny-tiny, you moaned that you didn’t have any friends.”</p>
<p>Tara rocked her slightly. “But there were loads of kids who wanted to be your friend that you disqualified for one reason or another. Remember Allie Speck? In second grade you were friends, and then one day you dismissed her after you decided she was boring.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” breathed Jude. “She was painfully not smart.”</p>
<p>Tara laughed. “I bet you have a lot of people,” she said. “You’ve got to understand that not everybody’s going to be exactly your kind of person. They’re not going to be completely satisfactory or meet your myriad qualifications.”</p>
<p>Jude sighed. Tara was right. She thought about what Haley said about how her mom would feel if she’d heard the things she’d said about her. If Sam, Penny or Haley heard her disavow their friendship they’d be hurt. Sebastian too.</p>
<p>
  <em>Ugh. Sebastian.</em>
</p>
<p>“You’re a particular petunia,” she said. “And that’s okay. It’s good to have high standards. I worry because you hold yourself against these standards too. You’re way too hard on yourself. This analysis and thinking and plotting and figuring out, it’s stopping you from living your life. Just be, Jude. Don’t push people away.”</p>
<p>“I think I pushed someone away,” said Jude. “But it wasn’t on purpose.”</p>
<p>“Was he cute?”</p>
<p>Jude rolled her eyes. “Mom.”</p>
<p>Tara nudged her daughter in the ribs. “Well, was he?”</p>
<p>Jude laughed. “Yeah,” she said. “You’ve met him—Sebastian.”</p>
<p>“The guy from the Saloon?”</p>
<p>Jude nodded.</p>
<p>“Stop. The one with the tattoos?”</p>
<p>Jude nodded again.</p>
<p>“Are you on birth control?”</p>
<p>“What? Mom. We’re not sleeping together. I’m in love with him.”</p>
<p>“Oh, thank God, because, Jude, that isn’t a boy. That’s an actual man.”</p>
<p>“Mom seriously, stop,” said Jude. They sat on her bed. Her pillows were so soft and enticing.</p>
<p>Tara sighed. It had been a long night for both of them.</p>
<p>“Mom?”</p>
<p>“Yes, baby?”</p>
<p>Jude took a deep breath. “How do you know if you’re in love?” Jude snuck a peek at her mom and could practically hear the AWWWWWWW in her head and Care Bear stares flying out of her eyes.</p>
<p>“Okay, hmm . . .” Her mother tightened her embrace. “You know how I know?”</p>
<p>If there was anything Tara was good for, it was exactly this.</p>
<p>“I know I love someone when I can’t remember what they look like in any real way. I can never seem to recall whether they’re handsome or ugly or if other people think they’re cute. All I know is that when I’m not with them and I think about them, where their face should be is this big cloud of good feelings and affection.”</p>
<p>“Ugh,” said Jude. “That’s how you know? I thought you would have a comprehensive list or something.”</p>
<p>Her mother laughed. “It doesn’t work that way at all,” she said. “It’s more this undeniable mood. It’s this warm, familiar, and exciting feeling where you miss them already when you’re with them.”</p>
<p>That sounded right.</p>
<p>Not being with Sebastian was excruciating.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is it guys, this upcoming chapter will be the conclusion to Jude &amp; Sebastian's story.<br/>I apologize for the weird updating times, I just finished my exams yesterday and I'm so ready to continue writing.<br/>Speaking of, thank you for sticking with me. It's been a wonderful experience having people read my first ever fic.<br/>Let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Jude & Sebastian</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sebastian decides he no longer want to be friends with Jude.<br/>“So I don’t think I want to be friends with you anymore. I want to kill the pact.”<br/>Jude braces herself for what comes after.<br/>“You’ve been a real pal. I get a lot out of you. I trust you right back. You speak fluent me. I’ve got no complaints. I love . . . I like knowing that you exist. It doesn’t make me feel any less lonely, because life is lonely, but it makes me feel a lot less alone.”</p><p>To be the hero, you had to decide it was you.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>STILL JUDE</strong>
</p><p>Jude dozed with her mom the way they used to when she was little, facing each other but not touching. She wanted to inch over and huff the familiar mom smell deep into her lungs and hold it there. Truth was, before everything went wrong, Jude had slept in her mom’s bed all the time when she lived at home. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it.</p><p>She stared up at her ceiling. Haley was right. Her mom needed to be milked. Jude had to stop working herself up thinking it was a bigger deal than it was. Especially since Jude missed Tara and wanted to see her. Her mother’s eyes were closed. It hurt Jude’s heart how much she loved her. How scared she’d been when Michael called. Loving someone was traumatizing. You never knew what would happen to them out there in the world. Everything precious was also vulnerable.</p><p>It wasn’t Tara’s fault. What happened to Jude was nobody’s fault but David’s. And one day when Jude could find the words, she’d tell her mom. Tara might not say all the right things right away. She might say a bunch of wrong things in a row for a while, but they’d find a way to talk again. Jude had to give her a chance. She had to let Tara in. That’s how it worked.</p><p>To be the hero, you had to decide it was you.</p><p>Jude typed furiously into her phone to save those words, and when a message came in she swiped it away before it broke her train of thought. When she was done she took a peek at her mom. Tara’s eyes sprang open as if sensing her daughter was awake in the room.</p><p>The text was from Sebastian.</p><p>Jude texted him back.</p><p>J: Hey</p><p>He hit her back immediately.</p><p>S: Hey</p><p>What are you up to?</p><p>J: My mom’s here</p><p>napping</p><p>S: Went to see Robin</p><p>Jude couldn’t believe that after months of silence that Sebastian would visit.</p><p>J: WHAT?</p><p>S: Just drove over there</p><p>J: WHOA</p><p>How was it</p><p>S: Not as bad as it could have been</p><p>Where are you?</p><p>J: At home</p><p>S: Home as in home home or your place here?</p><p>J: Here</p><p>S: And your mom’s there?</p><p>J: Yeah she drove up</p><p>We talked about it</p><p>It’s cool now</p><p>S: Good</p><p>That makes me happy</p><p>J: Wait</p><p>Where are you?</p><p>S: I’m outside</p><p>J: Outside outside or outside my place?</p><p>She leapt to her feet. Her mom cocked her head as if to say, “What’s up?”</p><p>Jude could hear laughing outside her door.</p><p>Who is that? Tara mouthed at her daughter.</p><p>S: Outside your place</p><p>Jude’s brain went into DEFCON 1. She searched Tara’s face helplessly.</p><p>What to do when Sebastian, actual Sebastian, visits you at your place while Tara is also present:</p><p>1. Hoist Tara out the window. She’s a resilient woman.</p><p>2. Send Sebastian away and spend more quality time with your mother who birthed you and had a horrible birthday. A birthday that you missed.</p><p>3. Just go very silent and hope Sebastian will forget that you responded to any of this.</p><p>Jude’s mouth was dry. She crept to the bathroom quietly to brush her teeth.</p><p>“Mom,” she whispered over the foam. “It’s Sebastian.” Jude’s eyes felt spicy and bloodshot from the cry-nap.</p><p>At that, Tara did something so knowing and awesome that Jude suspected she did have a better handle on parenting than she’d ever given her credit for.</p><p>Her mother’s eyes widened as she quietly gathered her cardigan, sunglasses, and purse.</p><p>Jude smiled with the toothpaste foam dripping. “I love you,” she said. “I so owe you.”</p><p>“You so do,” responded Tara, heading for the door.</p><p>The prospect of Tara and Sebastian seeing each other again made Jude feel hopelessly awkward. Plus, she didn’t need Tara to see anything revealing or odd if Sebastian was there to tell Jude something she absolutely didn’t want to hear. Jude’s phone continued to buzz.</p><p>S: Should I come back?</p><p>I’m sorry I can hear you freaking out in there</p><p>I can come back</p><p>“No!” she yelled. Jude spat into the sink, wiped her mouth, smoothed her hair, and cracked open the door.</p><p>“Hi,” she said. Cheesing. “I look insane.”</p><p>“Hi,” he said. “You look . . .” He took a step back to admire her. “Incredible.”</p><p>Jude was smiling so forcefully her cheeks were about to cramp.</p><p>Sebastian was standing on the steps wearing his usual goth ensemble. With his backpack. “Can I come in?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah,” said Jude. “Hang on a second.” Tara hugged her and made a big show of covering her eyes as she walked past Sebastian.</p><p>“I’m not even here,” she said.</p><p>“Hi, Tara,” said Sebastian. “Happy birthday.”</p><p>“Thanks,” she said, still facing away from them. “Take care of this one.”</p><p>“Sure thing.”</p><p>Jude watched her mother walk down the road.</p><p>“I love you!” Jude called out. Tara waved over her shoulder without glancing back.</p><p>“Okay, now hold on for an additional second,” Jude said, and shut the door. She whipped her head around quickly to make sure there wasn’t anything mortifying in plain sight. Like any food remnants or econo-size boxes of tampons. Jude shoved her dirty socks into her shoes and kicked them under her bed. Then she opened the door all the way.</p><p>“I see we employ the same interior decorator,” Sebastian said, surveying the barren premises.</p><p>“Worth every cent,” Jude croaked. “Hi.” She cleared her throat.</p><p>“Hi,” Sebastian said back.</p><p>“Is everything okay?” she asked him.</p><p>He smiled.</p><p>“Everything doesn’t have to be a crisis, Jude,” he said. Jude wasn’t so sure.</p><p>She wanted to sit on her bed, only she wasn’t sure if she could take him sitting on her bed with her if he was delivering bad news. So instead Jude stood in the middle of the room, like a normal human lady in a casual situation, and clenched her hands into fists. She could feel her heart in her palms.</p><p>“I have something to tell you,” Sebastian said, standing uneasily in front of her.</p><p>“Are you going somewhere?” she asked, nodding at the backpack. “Is it something to do with Robin?”</p><p>“Dude,” he said, and laughed.</p><p>Shit. Jude was fairly certain that when a guy called you “dude,” it was because he didn’t want to see you naked ever.</p><p>“Have you ever called me ‘dude’ before?”</p><p>Jude wasn’t sure why she was talking.</p><p>“Wow,” he said. “Sometimes talking to you is like accidentally clicking on a pop-up with autoplay video.”</p><p>Jude smiled weakly. “Sorry. Continue.”</p><p>“I want to get through what I want to say and then it’ll be your turn,” said Sebastian. “Is that okay?”</p><p>Jude nodded.</p><p>“I don’t . . . ,” he said, and then stopped. “So I don’t think I want to be friends with you anymore. I want to kill the pact.”</p><p>Jude blinked back tears, hoping that her eyelashes could dam the flow at least until she could kick him out. This was it, the moment they both knew would come. At least she did. It was the day Sebastian grew out of talking to her. It was how Christopher Robin didn’t need Winnie-the-Pooh when he became a grown-up. God, how she’d wept when she discovered the ending. Jude wondered if that’s what happened in Calvin &amp; Hobbes too but couldn’t remember. Jude hated whenever you could see Hobbes as a doll since it killed the magic. God. Jude didn’t want to be friends with Sebastian either. It was too emotional.</p><p>She took a deep breath.</p><p>“Good,” said Jude. “Because I completely agree. We’re definitely getting too codependent, right? I mean, how much workshopping can we honestly do for each other? It’s not as if you need my mom drama on top of your mom drama. It’s way too taxing. For both of us. Especially since we have so much work. Emotional work. Oh, and real work for me. I have so much of all the works.”</p><p>“You think we’re codependent?” Sebastian asked her. He frowned and ran his hands through his hair.</p><p>Jude nodded. She thought about how she’d invited this. Invoked it. By summoning Sebastian out of her phone, she had hastened this evolution. They could have stayed in suspended animation forever if she hadn’t appeared in front of him so many times. Pried open the portal and insisted her body through. Jude gazed longingly at Sebastian’s skinny legs. His bony arms. Oh God, she loved everything.</p><p>Whatever. Maybe this was good. This could be great for her story. Knowing about real heartbreak is useful. Maybe this was her inciting incident. Her saga would go on. She would persist. At least Jude had Sam, Penny and her mom and Haley. God, was she at the point of counting Haley as a good thing?</p><p>Her brain was short-circuiting.</p><p>Jude shook her head. To her horror, she was crying. “I’m not crying cause I’m sad,” she said angrily, swiping her tears.</p><p>“Which is it, then? Are you hungry? Or real, real mad?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” muttered Jude.</p><p>“Um, okay,” he said. “I don’t know where you’re at or what you’re thinking, and I don’t know if there’s a configuration of words that if I get right will make you see me differently.”</p><p>Sebastian wiped his hands on his jeans and continued.</p><p>“I know I relied on you for an awful lot when we were basically strangers. It’s because I trusted you and I don’t trust a lot of people. I’m like you like that, real choosy with humans. I was going through a lot of change and you were my emergency contact through all of it, even when I didn’t have a lot to give back. And it can’t have been a picnic, you know?”</p><p>Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair again and swallowed. “God,” he said. “I wish I could text you what I want to say.”</p><p>Jude smiled tightly and braced herself.</p><p>“I know I’ve been kind of a bum deal,” he continued.</p><p>Jude willed him to shut up. Just not do whatever he was about to.</p><p>“No, you haven’t,” she said. “You’ve been a real pal. I get a lot out of you. I trust you right back. You speak fluent me. I’ve got no complaints. I love . . . I like knowing that you exist. It doesn’t make me feel any less lonely, because life is lonely, but it makes me feel a lot less alone.”</p><p>“Jesus,” he breathed. “I got you something.” He rummaged through his backpack and handed her a mug. Inside it was a teddy bear wearing sunglasses, and he was holding a handful of daisies.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Right?” said Sebastian hopefully.</p><p>Jude started laughing. “Wow,” she said, turning it over. It immediately reminded her of Alex’s single red rose. She’d chucked it in the garbage on her way out. It was clear, karma was a bitch and she was getting payback for the way she’d treated Alex. Sebastian was closing the loop.</p><p>Sebastian laughed. “It’s the grossest one they had,” he said. “And guess what?”</p><p>“What?” she asked him.</p><p>“Later, I’m going to make you a mixtape.”</p><p>“Wait.” Jude shook her head, still confused.</p><p>Sebastian was smiling. Jude smiled stupidly back.</p><p>“And then we are going to play miniature golf.” </p><p>The car dealership windsock in her heart stirred and began swaying in the wind.</p><p>“Or a hay ride, if you’d prefer . . .”</p><p>Her heart was dancing now. Full-on spaz mode.</p><p>“And then we’re going on a picnic and we’re going to make out the whole time,” he said. “If that’s what you want.” Sebastian cleared his throat.</p><p>Jude took a half step closer to him and cleared her throat. She was so excited she wanted to punch him.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>He took the mug, placed it on her desk, and reached for her hand.</p><p>“Yeah,” he said. “And it’s going to be ridiculous.”</p><p>
  
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I meant to update sooner I'm sorry!<br/>Thank you for sticking through to the end! I hope you liked it, who knows maybe I'll dabble into their dating life in the future. I appreciate everyone who took the time to read this fic, it means a lot to me. I hope to write more stories people will enjoy as well.<br/>Happy 2021 guys.</p>
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